Winter Branches and Old Bones
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Tim centered story written for the NFA SeSa exchange. He wakes up on the side of a mountain in a storm. Why? What happened and what will the fallout be? Thirteen chapters and an epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is the story I wrote for the NFA Secret Santa fic exchange this year. It's Tim-centered as usual, but the team is prominent as well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS or the characters, and I'm not making any money off this story, alas.

* * *

**Winter Branches and Old Bones  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

_Some leaves hang late, some fall  
__before the first frost-so goes  
__the tale of winter branches and old bones.  
__~William Carlos Williams_

**Chapter 1**

It was the wind that woke him. It was rattling the branches overhead, and he heard it and woke up. He supposed that he should be happy about that, but considering how he felt upon waking, he had more than a few seconds where he thought that dying in the cold might be better. He'd heard that it was peaceful. You get tired. You fall asleep.

You die.

Simple.

But no. Now that he was awake, he knew that he couldn't give in so easily.

Groaning, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the trees. It was very dim. Not dark yet. Just dim. Dim and cold.

And windy.

The bare branches moved back and forth, heralding the approach of a change in the weather...and not a good one most likely.

With another groan, he sat up and instantly grabbed hold of his head to keep it from falling off...although, it hurt enough that, just maybe, it might be better to let it.

What had happened? Where was he? What was going on?

With all the questions he had, one thing was very clear to him.

It was wintertime and he was not prepared for it. A shiver ran through him and he huddled in on himself.

As he looked around, he wondered about how he could be so certain that he wasn't. After all, why would he be out here if he couldn't deal with the weather?

...and then one more question pressed in on him.

"Who am I?" he said into the cold air. His voice sounded lonely.

As he started to get up, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. His whole body ached, but the worst was his head. He put his hand up and felt it...and there was a crust of something...probably blood.

"I hit my head on something."

That made sense. He felt a lot of pain, some dizziness, and a general sense of malaise...and there was this blank spot where his identity should be. It was really disturbing.

He sat back and tried to think about what was going on, what had happened and where he was. He wasn't very successful.

It was getting colder. Another shiver. He figured that he probably shouldn't be sitting around.

Gritting his teeth, he turned his aching body around so that he could hold onto a tree and get to his feet. It was only then that he noticed the steep angle at which the ground fell away from his feet. He looked out on a rather expansive landscape. It was quite lovely...and snow-covered.

"Where am I?" he asked.

His voice still sounded lonely, although it had some accompaniment from the wind now. He shivered for a third time and then winced at the movement.

Snow. There was snow in the air. That was bad.

"Isn't it? It _is _bad."

Some important information was just on the tip of his brain...tongue...whatever. It was just out of reach. He wondered if he would be likely to remember if he stayed where he was or if he moved...and if he moved, should he go down or up? That depended upon where he was.

"But if I fell here, then, it would probably be right to go up. Right?"

He thought about it some more.

"But maybe I was _trying_ to go down and I fell. Then, I should go down. _That_ would be right...wouldn't it?"

His brain was throbbing and he was pretty bugged by the fact that he couldn't seem to remember what was going on...with anything. He could _almost_ remember. Just not quite.

So...up or down?

One thing in favor of up was that it looked like it wouldn't be as far...and it looked safer. That was enough. In his current state, he wasn't able to do any deep analysis. He started trying to walk up to the...top of whatever.

He took a couple of steps up the hill...mountain...

...but only a couple because he slipped in the snow and fell painfully to the ground. When he hit the ground he groaned loudly and then rolled over onto his back again and breathed heavily, waiting for the pain to ebb.

His ankle was now throbbing in tandem with his brain.

"Ow."

He was kind of thinking that maybe his initial thought about letting himself die in the cold was the best one he'd come up with...but still, he couldn't. Something wouldn't let him.

Then, suddenly, without any fanfare, he thought about who he was and he remembered. There was still a lot of fog in his brain, but he was remembering his identity at least. That was a relief.

"Tim McGee," he said aloud, amidst the darkening trees. "That's who I am. ...but where am I?"

That answer didn't appear to be forthcoming. He didn't know if it was because he really didn't know or if the same fogginess in his brain that had briefly hidden his own identity from him was now keeping him from knowing his location.

"Do I remember everything?" Tim asked himself.

Well, obviously not _everything_ since he didn't know where he was or why he was wherever he was, but what about his past?

He thought about it, and he could remember things about himself.

"I work for NCIS," he said aloud. "Did someone hurt me because of that and leave me out here to die?"

He didn't know. Whatever had led him here to wherever he was seemed to be completely absent from his brain. He started shivering again. It was so cold.

Well...what about climbing up again?

Tim thought about that and didn't like the idea. His ankle really hurt. His head really hurt. ...and the rest of his body was only marginally better. Moving seemed like a bad idea, but then again, _not_ moving might be a problem as well, given that he was really cold and it was snowing.

Instead of getting to his feet, Tim started to crawl up the hill, hoping that it would make him more successful.

He was...marginally. He couldn't fall and sprain another ankle, but his pants were sopping wet and he had no change of clothes. ...he didn't think so, anyway.

He struggled to make some progress, and he tried to tell himself that it was a _good_ thing that he was on a hill. It kept him from losing his way when his brain seemed to be semi-disconnected from reality. Occasionally, he'd forget what he was doing, where he was going, and why. Well, he didn't really know where he was going beyond _up_.

His ankle really hurt as he crawled up. It seemed to take forever. Forever and a day. So _longer_ than forever. He was still shivering...because it was still cold.

Agony. That was the word he wanted for how he felt. At one point, his body just outright _refused_ to move any further. He stopped struggling and let his body sag into the snow. He lay there for a while, snowflakes caking to his eyelashes.

"No. No. Must keep moving."

His body said no.

Tim tried to bully his legs into moving again. Finally, he did. It was a slow pace, but it _was_ forward movement. That was important. It was almost dark now.

At some point, he finally reached the top...or _a_ top. The ground leveled off, but it went on up a bit on the other side of the...

"A road?" he whispered.

A road. That meant...some kind of civilization somewhere along it. Somewhere. He carefully got to his feet, putting very little pressure on his sprained ankle. He looked both directions. One way went up and the other went down. It was an easy choice of which way to go, even with his head throbbing and the wind feeling very very cold.

Down. That would be easier than trying to keep going up. Which meant that all his effort to get up here would probably be wasted. Too late to complain about that, really. He tried to take a step in that direction, but he forgot about the fact that his ankle wasn't going to be happy about holding him up.

He collapsed...and rolled onto his back again, staring up at the white snow falling against the ever-darkening sky.

"What am I doing here?" he whispered...and didn't stop shivering.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_One week ago..._

"Guys, I'm fine. I'm ready to leave. Really. The doctor said so!" Tim said.

They all looked so worried, still. He didn't blame them, really. He felt the same way. It had been a scare and then when the doctor had given him the good news yesterday, it was almost like a reprieve, a commuting of a death sentence. A routine visit to his doctor because of unexplained abdominal pain had turned into a series of tests and scans, culminating in the diagnosis of a tumor in his abdomen. His doctor had been sure that it would be benign, but they wouldn't know for sure until they tested it. Then, the test of the tumoral mass had shown that it was benign. After all that waiting and worrying and fretting, anyone would be anxious about what else could go wrong. More than worried. Tim could admit (now that it was over) that he'd been terrified.

"What are you going to do?" Abby asked. She had a look on her face of forced calm. She wasn't going to break down now that she knew he was okay. "...until you come back to work?"

"Party," Tim said with a genuine smile.

"Really?" Tony asked, grinning mischievously.

"You're not invited, Tony," Tim said.

"Ah, come on! After we've spent all this time hovering over your death bed, this is the thanks we get?"

"You'll be working."

"What kind of a party is that?"

"A much quieter one if you are not there," Ziva said and kissed Tim on the cheek. "I am glad that it has all gone so well. These last few weeks have been...frightening."

Tim nodded in agreement.

"I'd be lying if I said that I wanted to go through it again, but don't worry. I'll be back to form in no time. I can even start running again soon...well...walking and stuff."

Tim's doctor came in right then, interrupting the conversation before they could start poking fun at him.

"You ready to leave, Mr. McGee?"

"Absolutely."

"Any lingering pain?"

"Not with the painkillers I've got. I'm a little sore, but I feel all right."

"Good. Now, here's the part where I give my spiel. You need to take it easy for the next few days. Give yourself at least a week before you go back to work. Even then, light duty only. Be careful and don't over exert yourself. You've been through a lot of stress in the last month, both physically and emotionally; so you need to take time to heal."

"I will," Tim said. "I've already arranged with my boss to come back on desk duty."

"Good. I'm glad that things turned out as well as they did, Mr. McGee. Once a growth has been found, the best news is that it's not cancerous. Now, remember that you have follow-up tests to make sure that nothing was missed."

Tim nodded. After the doctor gave him clearance to leave, Tim happpily got into the wheelchair and let Tony, Ziva and Abby bicker about who would have the honor of wheeling him out of the hospital. (Abby won.)

As they reached the outside, they all paused for a moment before Tim got up.

"So...what _are_ you going to do while we're working, Tim? Seriously." Abby asked.

Tim smiled. It wasn't a secret, not really, but he wasn't sure how they'd take it. He wouldn't go so far as to claim that he had a bucket list, but there were things he'd been wanting to do, things he'd been putting off saying that he'd get to them some other time...and they were mostly around the DC area. No big deal to get to them.

"Come on, Probie! Give!" Tony wheedled. "We're your ride home, after all..."

Tim laughed, feeling more and more normal as time went on...and as Tony started treating him normally.

"It's nothing big. I'm going to drive down to Shenandoah this weekend and drive through the park. I've never seen it in winter, and I've heard that it's beautiful."

"No hiking, Tim," Abby said, seriously.

"I'm not going to hike, just drive...maybe even stop at some of the overlooks...take a few pictures."

"That's a really long drive," Tony said. "It'll take you forever."

"I'm not going to drive it all, just from one entrance to another. Just a little day trip to pass the time. I'm going to rest during the week and then drive down there on Saturday."

"And you're going to leave us behind, huh?" Tony asked.

"Well, Tony, I know that staring at scenery is your favorite form of entertainment...but mostly, it's because you guys are working this weekend."

"And you wish to see it alone, yes?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah, kinda."

Tim stood up carefully and started to walk to Tony's car, but Abby hugged him, surprisingly gently.

"Call me when you go and come back, Tim," she said.

"Abby, I'm not in danger of dying anymore. I'm fine. You don't need to check up on me."

"Yes, I do! You could have _died_, Tim! It could have been really bad!"

"But it wasn't. It's okay."

Abby didn't let him go. There was no reasoning with her when she got like this. He met Tony and Ziva's gazes. They were both trying to hold back laughter. He rolled his eyes.

"...but if you really want me to, I will," he said finally.

"Thank you, Tim," Abby said, releasing him. "I'll be waiting for it."

"Okay. Now, I'm ready to go home."

"Off we go," Tony said, gesturing grandly.

There was still a bit of worry in all their expressions.

"I'm not taking any risks, guys. I'm going to do it right. Just a little day trip and I'll be back by the evening."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

Tim didn't make it very far on the road before he had to stop and rest. He was tired and sore...and cold. His sprained ankle made forward progress very difficult...and he was shaking from the cold. It was getting worse as time went on. The snow was falling much more thickly than it had been. The wind was getting stronger. That was very not good.

Try as he might, he couldn't remember where he was or why he was here or what had happened to put him in this position. As he rested, Tim tried to remember his recent past. He remembered his tumor and the terror he had felt at finding out it was there, not knowing if it was going to kill him or could just be removed. It was something that one didn't tend to forget in a hurry.

"Am I dying?" he wondered aloud...and suddenly, another thought struck him. What if he had been trying to kill himself? What if he had been trying to commit suicide only he'd bungled the job? Maybe the tumor wasn't benign like his doctor had thought. Maybe they'd discovered that it had spread. Maybe it was inoperable and Tim had come out here to die.

"Would I really do that, though?" he asked himself. He didn't _think_ he would, but...maybe...in the right (or wrong) circumstances. If he was going to die anyway, and hadn't he considered just letting himself go back to sleep when he had regained consciousness before?

...and that led to another question. If it _was_ the case that he'd come out here to kill himself, should he bother trying to stay alive? He probably had a good reason for it if that had been his intention. ...but _had_ it been? That was the question. Tim knew that they had been worrying and that surgery was coming up. Had the surgery happened? That was something he could check, at least.

In spite of the cold and the wind, he unbuttoned his coat and lifted up his shirt, exposing his abdomen to the winter air. He looked at it, and even in the dark, he could see the bandaged area. So he'd had surgery...but he didn't remember that. How much time had he lost? That was a question he couldn't answer. Another one. He rebuttoned his coat and hunched his shoulders to hide his face, trying to protect himself against the chill.

"I've had surgery and I'm not in agony..from that at least. So _some_ time has passed. How much?"

A violent shudder passed through his body. It was really getting cold. Would anyone realize he was gone? He wouldn't be back at work yet, would he? ...but Abby had been hanging on him a _lot_ since they'd found the tumor. Maybe she'd call and worry about him not answering. He could only hope...and he realized that he'd already assumed he'd try to live. That was something, at least. So he forced himself to his feet, tried to ignore the shaking that just would _not_ stop, and started limping down the road.

It seemed that he was in the middle of nowhere. No cars on the road and more and more snow making it very difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. He could be twenty feet from salvation and he wouldn't know it. He actually went off the road for a while so that he could lurch from tree to tree, using them both for support and for protection. At each tree, he paused and breathed heavily. The slightest exertion tired him out. Was that from his injury or from his surgery? He didn't know. The area where the bandage was had started aching all on its own. That must mean he was taking pain relievers...which were now wearing off. At least, he _hoped_ that was what it was and not that he'd done something _else_ to himself.

As he made his slow, painful way along, one thought clawed at his brain. ...well, two questions, really. Where was he and why?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One day ago..._

Wayne Dallas crept slowly toward the driveway. A car was sitting there, running. The owner had started it and then gone back inside. Perfect. Letting it warm up. ...for him. Wayne had already cursed his stupidity in planning and staging his escape in the middle of winter. He couldn't hide out as effectively in these colder temperatures. But a beat-up, old car was perfect. He looked around and saw no one about.

He started walking down the sidewalk with an air of nonchalance. No reason to notice him. The coat he'd swiped helped him blend in and kept him warm. He drew level with the car and then dashed over, opened the driver's-side door, jumped in and drove away. He'd work his way north on the less-traveled roads. He still had some friends in New York. They'd get him securely hidden.

He also had enemies. He'd take care of _them_ as well. Wayne suddenly chuckled to himself. They _did_ say that revenge was a dish best served cold.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

"Wow. It's really coming down out there," Tony said...with a degree of hope in his voice.

Gibbs didn't react. At all. Tony sighed. It was getting late and they hadn't be released. A few measly typos. He could never figure out why Gibbs was such a stickler about how many words they spelled wrong in their reports. With all the times he'd stepped over the line, how could he care about whether or not Tony had spelled the victim's name correctly?

"Do not say that in Abby's hearing," Ziva said, not looking up from her computer. "She has not stopped worrying about McGee since he told her that much of Shenandoah has no cell phone service."

Tony grinned. Tim might as well be dropping down in the Middle East in the midst of a firefight with how worried she was. At least today she'd been kept busy.

"_...and there is still no sign of Wayne Dallas, the man who was convicted of murdering undercover narcotics detective Carlos Vasquez three years ago. The exact method of his escape is not known. If you see him, please consider him extremely dangerous. Do not approach or confront him. Just call police."_

Tony glanced at the TV.

"Dallas sure picked a bad time to escape," he said. "The biggest storm of the year."

"You know, Tony, if you would stop being so distracting, we could _both_ be done," Ziva said.

Gibbs looked up and glared at them both silently. Tony grinned back...but then, returned to his work. They all wanted to get home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Twelve hours ago..._

Tim got off the phone with Abby after solemnly promising her that he would call the instant he got back home. He was actually excited. Driving through Shenandoah wasn't a big thing...but wasn't it really the little things that enriched one's life?

So he was off to do some enriching.

It was going to be a great day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Present..._

Tim tripped over something obscured by the snow, with his hands in his pockets, he had no support, and he fell to the ground. For a few long moments, he didn't move. Too tired, too cold and too aching to feel able to force his body to get up again. He could only see the dark shapes of the trees. Not a single light on the road. Why not? Was it just the storm? Was that really enough to keep _everyone_ from wherever he was? He didn't want to get up. He wanted to _give_ up, stop trying to win an unwinnable fight. He had never felt so alone, so lonely...so tired.

Snow started to collect on him as he lay there...but he was cold. He was so cold that he tucked his hands into his sleeves and curled up into as tight a ball as he could, burrowing his aching head down into his coat. The shaking was uncontrollable. He felt like he'd never really be warm again, but curled up like this, he could almost pretend he was warm, that he could go back to sleep and never wake up again. It was so tempting. He was halfway gone already. His eyes closed and he resigned himself to a snowy end.

...but...

"No. ...no... I can't." He said it very reluctantly, but he knew it was true.

Groaning, Tim rolled over and got to his knees. Then, he stopped, closing his eyes against the blowing snow coating his face, trying to get the energy he would need to stand up again and fight against the storm. This was a real winter storm. Cold, wind, snow. How far could he really get before he genuinely couldn't move anymore?

"Farther than I am now," he whispered. He knew he still had the energy necessary to get up and walk a little farther. So...he did. He got to his feet and struggled to make his way forward once more.

He was no longer thinking about why he was here or where he was. His mind could only focus on one thing: moving forward. Leaning into the wind and snow, he took one faltering step...and then another. He didn't know how many more he could take.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three hours ago..._

Wayne cursed loudly. No wonder that idiot hadn't worried about someone stealing this piece of junk. He tried to get the engine working again. It just sputtered at him. He swore once more. He was driving through Shenandoah, too. It had seemed like a good way to avoid attention...at the time. Now, it looked like he'd have to walk all the way to...

...but before he could even finish his thought, a car appeared, driving the way he wanted to go. He wasted no time and flagged the car down. The driver rolled down his window and smiled.

"Problem with your car?" he asked.

"Yeah," Wayne said, making sure to sound friendly. Not threatening. "Just conked out on me. You think you could give me a hand?" _Or maybe your car?_

"Well, I'm not really great with cars, but I'll see. If not, I'll give you a ride to the nearest town and you can get a mechanic."

Wayne smiled his thanks but was inwardly gleeful. He didn't normally go for fancy cars (too noticeable), but if no one knew he was missing for a while, Wayne figured he could drive it for a few hours and then dump it if he had to. The man paused for a moment, looking at his phone. Wayne tensed...and then relaxed when he made a face of disappointment and then casually set it on the seat.

"No signal," he said, by way of explanation. "I haven't had one at all since I've been in the park."

Wayne smiled. "I haven't either."

The car door finally opened. The man put his keys in his coat pocket and got out. Wayne worried again when he saw the man's height. He'd never managed to make it past five feet eight inches. Then, he noticed how carefully the man was moving. The man noticed Wayne's scrutiny...but not out of suspicion. He was simply more aware than some people would be. He smiled.

"I had surgery a few days ago. I have to move a little more slowly than usual."

"Too bad," Wayne said, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

"Could have been worse," the man said. "I could have died."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," Wayne said. _If you had, I wouldn't have my new car._

The man chuckled.

"Pop the hood and let's see if it's something really simple."

Wayne went to the front seat and did as he had been directed. As the man propped the hood up and leaned over the engine, Wayne got out and picked up a branch lying beside the road. He had a lot of experience sneaking up on people...which had taught him that you _don't_ sneak. You just walk up and risk them noticing your ill intent.

The man was staring at the engine.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what–"

Wayne swung his branch and hit the man solidly on the back of his head. He dropped to the ground without a sound.

"That's okay," Wayne said with a smile. "I'll just take yours."

He didn't waste time gloating. He grabbed the now-unconscious man, dragged him to the side of the road and then down the steep incline, out of sight. Once no one could see him from the road, he quickly rifled through the man's pockets, took his cash and keys and left everything else. He didn't want to be traced with someone else's credit cards and he wanted no one sure where he'd turn up. After that, he lifted the man as well as he could and then flung him down the hill. The man rolled a little ways and then stopped. No one could possibly see him from the road. Satisfied, Wayne tossed the keys to his new car up in the air and then quickly climbed up the hill to the road, got in the car and drove north once again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

Abby stared anxiously at her phone. She was worried. She'd tried calling Tim's phone. Twelve times in the last hour while she was waiting for some samples to run. She felt far too acutely the possibility of Tim being gone forever. She knew the others thought she was being silly. She was, but that didn't change anything. She could be silly and worried at the same time.

She wasn't going to be able to relax until she could see that Tim was okay. ...especially with the storm outside. She checked the weather in Shenandoah and was horrified to discover that there was a major winter storm moving through. They'd closed Skyline Drive, meaning that no one would be going through the park tonight. That was it. She wasn't going to wait any longer.

She ran up to the bullpen and was relieved to see Gibbs there.

"Gibbs. We need to go find Tim!"

Gibbs looked at her in surprise.

"Why?"

"Because I've been calling him for the last hour and he doesn't answer his phone and it's getting late and he promised to call me and...and they've closed the road through Shenandoah because of the storm! I just know he's there and he needs help!"

"Abby, wouldn't it be more likely that he just forgot?" Tony said.

"And isn't answering?" Abby retorted. "I know you think I'm being a worrywart but I don't care! I'm worried!"

Gibbs looked at her for a long moment.

"Gibbs...I'm going to go out there myself...but your car would be safer, you know."

Gibbs smiled. "Okay. Let's go, Abbs."

"Well, if you're going, then, I'll come along," Tony said. "Two is better than one."

"I will come, too," Ziva added.

Abby was relieved that they were listening to her. If Tim was fine, she'd be furious at him, but if not... They'd already faced the possibility of losing him once. She didn't want to see that happen again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

That was it. His energy was gone.

Tim sagged to the ground. He'd tried his best, but he just couldn't keep going. He was tired, cold and unable to take another step in the wind and snow. He burrowed his head into his coat again, exposing as little of his flesh to the air as he could...but he just couldn't keep this up any longer. His ankle was probably twice its normal size. The shaking made it too hard to stay upright, and he just couldn't fight it anymore.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Boss, Shenandoah is _huge_...at least from north to south," Tony said. "How are we going to know where to look for him?"

"_We don't, DiNozzo. That's why we're looking,"_ Gibbs said. _"Drive carefully. We'll meet in the middle."_

Tony hung up and sighed.

"Boy, there had better be something to this," he grumbled.

"I hope there is not," Ziva said. "This is not a storm I would hope McGee would be out in."

"You know what I mean!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby tried not to fret, but it was hard. She looked out the window at the falling snow, felt every time the tires slid on the road. They were going very slowly.

"What if I'm right?" she asked.

"Then, we'll find him."

That was it, and Abby was glad Gibbs was so definite. It made her feel better.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

What was that sound?

Tim thought he might be hearing something...something other than wind. What could it be? He was still off the road, having given up right beside a copse of trees that gave him scant protection. There was a lot of snow on his coat, on his head. He was shaking.

He heard it again.

A car? Could it be a car?

He tried to get up, but his body wasn't working right. It was as if all his joints were frozen and his head was filled with blocks of ice. Slowly, he dragged himself out of his little cocoon...his snowy sepulchre and tried to crawl to the road. The snow was a foot deep at least. It got in his face, his hands were freezing. He wasn't sure if he could feel his feet or not. His head ached. His entire body was the epitome of misery. All in all...not a great situation.

Still, he tried. He was crawling toward the road, his sight blurring, but he saw the lights of the car go past him.

No.

No, he couldn't lose his one chance.

He pushed himself to his maybe-missing feet and staggered into the middle of the road after the car passed. He managed to wave his hands once and that was it. He couldn't summon a single bit of energy after that. He collapsed to the road and decided that was it. He was done.

He thought he might have heard something, but he just couldn't care any longer. He was cold, aching, and he couldn't figure out why he was trying so hard to stay alive anymore.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We should be getting to Tony and Ziva soon," Abby said, softly. "If they drove fast."

"Yeah."

Then, Gibbs looked in his rearview mirror and quickly pushed on his brakes.

"What?" Abby asked.

Gibbs stopped the car. They skidded a little bit, but they'd been going so slowly that it hardly mattered. Then, he jumped out of the car and ran back as the dark figure collapsed and didn't move.

"McGee!"

Abby followed right behind him once she realized.

Gibbs knelt in the snow and rolled the man over.

"Tim," he said.

It was definitely him, but his eyes were closed and he was shaking violently. Gibbs saw that he'd probably had a bad knock on the head.

"Abby, is your phone working?"

Abby checked and then shook her head.

"Okay. We need to get him to a hospital. As soon as possible."

"Okay."

Gibbs lifted Tim up and was surprised when Tim's eyes opened very slightly and looked at him.

"...mmm...I...d-d-dead?" he mumbled.

"No, you're not, Tim," Gibbs said and smiled.

"...dying?"

"No!" Abby said loudly.

Gibbs shook his head and just picked Tim up off the ground and carried him back to the car. He put him in the back seat and checked him over. Tim was shaking violently. Hypothermia, maybe? Probably. His face was chafed and red. It was entirely possible that he had frostbite on his hands, his feet or his ears...and Gibbs knew that he wasn't really qualified to do anything about that.

"What are we going to do, Gibbs?" Abby asked.

Gibbs quickly made a decision. They couldn't wait for someone else to come. This road was closed. They couldn't call for an ambulance and get people who would know what to do to help them. They would have to just drive Tim to the nearest hospital and hope he survived the trip. Who knew how long he'd been out here, where his car was and what had happened?

"Stay with him. See if you can warm him up," he said. "Don't rub his skin. If there's frostbite, that will only damage the skin more."

Abby nodded and got into the car. She pulled off Tim's coat and his shirt as carefully as she could and then opened her own coat and wrapped her arms around Tim as Gibbs got in the front seat and carefully turned the car around. It was only a few miles to the park entrance but the road was bad. Front Royal wasn't very far away and there was a hospital there.

He drove very slowly, in spite of the fact that he really wanted to drive fast, especially as Tim woke up a little bit and started mumbling.

"S-s-s-so... c-c-c-cold..."

"We'll get you warmed up, Tim," Abby said.

"Where...why..."

"You were in Shenandoah. Don't you remember?"

"Why?"

That was worrying. Some degree of amnesia wasn't really shocking if he was suffering from a concussion, but if there was another reason for it...

"...c-c-cold..."

"I know, Tim. It's okay. Just stay with me. We're going to the hospital."

"W-w-w-why?"

"Because you need some help and we're going to help you."

Tim was silent long enough that Gibbs looked into the rearview mirror and saw Abby looking back at him.

"I'm glad I was worried," she whispered.

"Me, too," Gibbs said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay. Where's Gibbs?" Tony asked. "We should have met up with him by now."

"Unless they found McGee and it was bad," Ziva said softly. "We have no cell phone service here. They could not tell us."

"I guess we'll just keep going, but I'm glad I have four-wheel drive. This road is awful."

"Yes, it is."

They were silent for a while longer.

"Hey...is that a car?"

Ziva peered through the snow.

"Yes, I think so."

Tony slowed to a stop. He and Ziva got out and walked over to it.

"It's not McGee's car. Looks like a clunker."

"Yes."

The hood was propped up and there was a lot of snow on the engine.

"It has clearly been here for some time."

"Yeah. Man, it's cold. You see anyone?"

Ziva walked around. "No...and any sign that there was before would be covered by this snow."

"Yeah...okay. So...whoever was in this car isn't here now and if McGee was here, we have no way of knowing whether he was or not. No car tracks to show that Gibbs somehow got by us. Let's just keep going. We can't be too far from the other entrance now."

"I agree. Once we get service again, we can try to call Gibbs and ask him what has happened or what we should do next."

They hurried back to the car and continued on their way. Although neither mentioned it, both were looking for someone walking...just in case.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It took much too long to get out of Shenandoah and then to the hospital in Front Royal. Abby had started talking to Tim, trying to make him better with an uninterrupted flow of words. Gibbs tuned out whatever she was saying. The roads were bad. He needed to focus on them and keep himself from going too fast in his efforts to get help for Tim. The six miles they had to drive to get out of the park seemed interminable.

Finally, the sign telling them that they were getting out of Shenandoah National Park loomed up and they crawled past it. Then, past the entrance station and finally to the sign indicating that Front Royal lay to the right.

Grateful to be out of the park, Gibbs drove into the city but couldn't see the location of the hospital right away.

"Abby, call 911 and ask them to tell us how to get to the hospital."

"Gibbs, he's not conscious. He won't wake up."

"Call now, Abbs," Gibbs said. "That's what you need to do."

"Okay. Tim? I'm calling the hospital. We're going to get help for you."

No response, but Abby did as Gibbs had instructed.

"This is Abby. We found a friend in Shenandoah and he's been hurt and he's shaking. He's unconscious and I don't know if it's because of the head wound he has. We think he's hypothermic...maybe has frostbite. We need to get to the hospital. We're in Front Royal but we don't know where to go!"

She listened for a moment.

"What road are we on, Gibbs?"

Gibbs squinted, looking for a street sign.

"South Royal Avenue," he said.

Abby relayed the information and then listened again.

"Drive until you get to West 11th Street and turn left. The hospital is just south of it on Shenandoah Avenue...what a coincidence..."

"Yeah."

Abby got off the phone.

"They said they'd tell the ER people to be ready for us."

Gibbs didn't say anything else, choosing to focus on the road instead, trying not to worry about Tim's status when there was nothing he could do that he wasn't already doing. The car was sweltering hot because he'd turned the heat up as high as he could. Abby was trying her best to help Tim warm up.

After what seemed an eternity, he saw the necessary turn, and was surprised to hear Tim speak again, almost coherently...although he was still shivering uncontrollably.

"Where...did you come from?"

Abby laughed.

"I told you to call me when you got back, Tim. You didn't. So I came looking."

"Am...I dying?"

"No, Tim! You're going to be fine. The doctors will look you over and you'll be just great!"

"...b-b-but...the...tumor..."

_That_ was worrying if Tim had lost that much time. It had been days since the verification that the growth had been benign.

"They took it out and you're fine, Tim. Don't you remember having surgery?"

"...no...bandage..."

"Well, you had it and you're fine."

"What...was I d-d-doing...then..."

"Seeing the park."

"Why?"

Gibbs pulled into the ER entrance.

"Stay in the car. We don't want him getting cold again."

"...still c-c-cold..."

Gibbs smiled. "We don't want you getting colder, then, McGee."

He got out and ran inside the doors. There was a doctor and nurse.

"My friend has hypothermia and maybe frostbite. He's out in my car. He needs help."

"You called 911?"

"Yes!"

"All right. Let's go."

The doctor and the nurse grabbed the gurney they had standing by and hurried out into the snow. Gibbs directed them to his car.

"Any other injuries that you know of?"

"He had surgery a few days ago," Abby said.

"For what?"

"He had a benign growth in his abdomen," Gibbs said. "But I think he got hit in the head. He's not remembering stuff that happened days ago."

"All right. Let's get him inside as quickly as we can."

Carefully, they pulled Tim out of the car and laid him out on the gurney and then moved him into the hospital. Gibbs and Abby tried to follow them.

"No. Please stay out here. Someone will come out later and tell you how he's doing."

Abby looked at Gibbs. Gibbs wanted nothing more than to force his way in but he reluctantly stood back. There was a window into the ER and they watched as they carefully removed Tim's clothes and started putting heat packs around him and then covered him with blankets. ...but when, they pulled off his shoes and socks...and began examining his hands...

"What's happened to his feet?" Abby whispered.

"Frostbite, probably."

Tim's feet were swollen and his toes had a blue-gray appearance. His hands were also swollen but didn't have the same discoloration. In the light, they could see Tim's ears were similarly swollen, but the very tips were more discolored than his toes.

"Oh, no...what will happen?"

"Depends on how bad it is." ...and really, Gibbs knew he couldn't say anything more with certainty. He was far from being an expert on this. Most of his military service had taken place in hot places, not cold places. He only knew the basics of treatment.

"He'll be okay, though, right?"

"I hope so."

Abby hugged him tightly.

"It's not fair that this should happen, Gibbs. Not after everything else he just went through."

Gibbs just stared as they wrapped Tim's extremities in gauze and splints and then got ready to move him out of the ER. Abby let Gibbs go and ran to the doctors.

"Where are you taking him?"

"To a room where we can continue the rewarming process. We just got word that there was a bad accident on the highway and we need the space. We've scheduled a CT and as soon as it opens, we'll move him in to make sure that there's no brain bleed. His loss of consciousness and amnesia could be the sign of a serious hemorrhage or it could just be the combination of the hypothermia and his injury. We need to know. We'll let you know when you can be with him again."

They pushed Tim on by and Abby looked at Gibbs.

"What if...that accident...what if...it was Tony and Ziva?"

"Call them."

Abby took out her phone, swallowed and then held it out to him.

"I can't! You do it."

Gibbs took the phone and dialed. It rang...and rang...and rang.

"_Yeah, Abby? What is it? We haven't seen him. Actually, we haven't seen you guys either. What gives?"_

"Tony, where are you?"

"_Trying not to get stuck in a drift. It's really coming down. This road is terrible. I can see why they closed it. Where are you guys?"_

"In the hospital in Front Royal."

"_You found him?"_

"Yeah."

"_Where was he?"_

"Walking in the road. He doesn't even remember having surgery...so he has no idea what happened to him."

"_How bad?"_

"Frostbite, hypothermia...bad knock on the head. Looks like he'll survive...just don't know what condition."

"_Yikes...okay. In Front Royal?"_

"Yeah."

"_We'll be there...as soon as we can."_

"Just be careful. Apparently, there's already been a bad accident."

"_Will do. See ya, Boss."_

Gibbs hung up.

"They're okay. They'll get here."

Abby nodded, clearly fretting.

"Let's see what we can do about McGee."

"Okay. Gibbs...what if we hadn't gone looking for him?"

"We did."

Gibbs didn't even want to imagine.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim awakened with a throbbing pain in his feet, an ache in his hands and, strangely, his ears. His feet were the worst, though.

"Hello?" he whimpered and tried to blink away the blurriness and the fog in his head. He just wanted someone to help him, to take away the pain.

"Tim? You're awake!" That was Abby's voice.

"What's going on?" he asked, tears sprang to his eyes as the throbbing in his feet grew worse. "What happened?"

"It's okay, Tim. I've pushed the call button. Someone will be here soon."

"Try to relax as much as you can, Tim. Don't tense your muscles."

"Why not? What's going on?"

Everything was so confused in his head that he couldn't think of why he hurt so much, what Gibbs and Abby had to do with it, and why Gibbs would tell him to stay still. He closed his eyes tightly.

"Everything hurts," he said.

"They're rewarming your hands and feet and legs, Tim. It's going to hurt, but it will get better."

Tim opened his tear-filled eyes and looked at Gibbs.

"What's going on?"

The door opened and in moments there was a doctor leaning over him.

"Hello, Mr. McGee. I'm Dr. Jamison. How are you feeling?"

"It hurts."

"Hands, feet, legs?"

Tim nodded.

"Any other pain?"

"That's all I can...can think about."

"I understand. We'll give you some pain relievers soon. I know that you're in a lot of pain, but can you tell me how your head feels? Any sharp pains or throbbing?"

Tim tried to think about it.

"It does...hurt some."

"Okay. You should start feeling some relief soon. Just stay still and we'll wait to see how it goes."

Tim nodded and closed his eyes tightly. He waited and waited for what seemed like forever but the pain definitely lessened rather dramatically all of a sudden.

"Feeling better, Mr. McGee?"

"Yes. What's going on?"

"Okay. What's the last thing you remember?"

Tim tried to think but he felt as though the fog in his head had increased as dramatically as his pain had lessened.

"I went to the doctor to...schedule the surgery..."

"Tim! That was more than two _weeks _ago!"

Tim opened his eyes and looked at Abby.

"Weeks?"

"Yes! You've had the surgery. You're fine!"

"No cancer?" Tim asked, finding it hard to follow the conversation.

"No!"

"Then...why was I...where I was?"

Abby seemed inordinately upset. "You were going out to see Shenandoah because you said you'd never really taken the time and it was supposed to be beautiful in the winter. You weren't coming back to work yet and so you wanted something to fill your time."

"I did?" Tim stared at the ceiling. That didn't fit with the vague memories he had of wondering around the park. Granted, nothing was making a whole lot of sense right now.

"Tim, you've _got_ to remember all that!"

Tim looked at Abby and started feeling as distressed as she looked.

"I...I don't! Abby...I don't remember that...I..."

Gibbs pulled Abby back, whispered in her ear and then took her place beside Tim as Abby left the room.

"Boss...I..."

"Just calm down, Tim. It's okay. If you can't remember right now, it doesn't matter."

"But..."

"Stay calm. Does it still hurt?"

Tim thought about it. When he did, he noticed some pain...so he stopped thinking about it.

"Some."

"And your head is probably pretty foggy."

"Yeah."

"Then, don't worry about it."

"What's wrong with me, Boss?" Tim asked, trying to keep his mind on the situation at hand. "What happened?"

"We don't know it all yet. Your car is missing and you were wandering around in the park. You got hit on the head at some point, and you have frostbite."

"Frostbite?" That managed to penetrate the pleasant fog. Horrible images of black fingers and toes falling off washed through his mind. Tim started to sit up, but Gibbs held him down.

"Don't panic, McGee. They're treating you for it. You're going to be fine."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Are you still cold?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Are you tired?"

"Yes." Now that Gibbs had mentioned it, he was exhausted.

"Then, why don't you go to sleep. Someone will be here when you wake up."

"Okay."

Tim let his eyes close again and the fog in his brain cut him off from the waking world, protecting him in dreams.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs sat back as Tim fell asleep. Tim hadn't even noticed that he was in a whirlpool bath right now, not a hospital bed. The rewarming process could be (and obviously was in this case) very painful. The swelling had increased as Tim's extremities had warmed up. Blisters were forming on his hands. There were some on his ears as well. His legs were worse. His knees, for some reason, had the same blistering that his hands did, only over a larger area. Then, his feet. Tim hadn't been wearing shoes that were really great protection against the cold. They hadn't been waterproof and had been soaking...leading to the bad state of his feet. His feet were progressively worse towards the toes which looked almost frightening. Dr. Jamison had said that there was no guarantee that Tim would lose anything. Amputation wasn't undertaken lightly. The old saying was "Frostbite in January, amputate in July." They still followed that basic wisdom. It could take months for Tim to fully recover, but full recovery was always possible. Parts of his ears were worse than others. Dr. Jamison said that Tim must have been walking with his head as low as possible and that had protected the lobes to some degree, but the top tips had major discoloration.

Then, there was the fact that Tim had suffered from a severe concussion. The CT scan hadn't shown any serious bleeding, but there _was_ some swelling and they were going to take another scan in the morning to make sure it wasn't getting worse.

Then, of course, was the hypothermia that they had addressed first. Tim had been in the second stage, and if he had been out in the storm for much longer, he would have died. All in all, Tim had been on the receiving end of a _lot_ of hard knocks in the last few hours. He didn't need to be thinking about the fact that he couldn't remember more than a week of his life. He didn't need to be thinking about possibly losing some digits to frostbite. He didn't need to be worrying about anything. He just needed to recover.

"How much longer will he stay in the water?" he asked.

"We'll be getting him out right now, but we'll do this again every day while he's in the hospital. We'll also be putting dressing on all the thawed areas which we'll change regularly to make sure there's no infection."

"How long will it take to know what's going to happen?"

"Weeks, although he won't be in the hospital for all that time. We won't rush into anything, but it will take time for him to recover. His body was already recovering from the surgery you mentioned, plus that concussion. He has a lot to fight back against, but I think he can. One thing you might want to consider is...as soon as he's a bit more stable, moving him to a bigger hospital where they can do a better job taking care of him while he's recovering. We know how to deal with frostbite out here because it comes up more often than we'd like it to, but we don't have the facilities that someplace like WHC in DC or even Bethesda would have. It's not a requirement, but you may want to consider it."

"Okay."

It was something to think about, and Gibbs decided he'd take anything that would distract him from staring at Tim's hands and feet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"There! Turn there, Tony! That is the street!"

"Stop telling me how to drive, Ziva!" Tony muttered. "This is stressful enough."

After talking to Gibbs, it was all they could do _not_ to speed directly to the hospital. The road coming out of Shenandoah was bad. Really bad. The roads going into Front Royal weren't much better, and to make matters worse, they didn't know where they were going and had to pull over for an ambulance at one point. They tried to follow it but didn't dare go fast enough to keep up. Eventually, they had pulled over and asked someone (and only belatedly realized that they could have just called Gibbs and Abby back and asked for directions).

Now, they could see the hospital through the snowstorm. It was a distinct relief when Tony was able to maneuver the car into a parking spot and they could slip and slide their way to the hospital entrance.

They didn't have to ask for directions when they got inside because Abby was right there and started fretting at them as soon as she saw them.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she said, hugging them both tightly. "For a few minutes, I thought maybe you'd been in an accident until we called you and found out that you were both okay. I'm so glad you are. But Tim! He can't remember having surgery. He didn't remember that it was benign. He didn't know why he was in Shenandoah. He didn't even know he was there! And his hands and his feet! It's just awful and I don't know what to do about it! And..."

"Can you take us to his room, Abby?" Ziva asked.

Abby grabbed them both by the arms and proceeded to drag them down the hallway, not to a place they expected. Instead of a hospital bed, they saw Tim in a whirpool bath...and it was a shock...not the bath, but Tim himself. Gibbs was sitting beside the bath and the nurse was checking Tim.

"What happened?" Ziva asked.

"We don't know," Abby said softly. "Because Tim doesn't know...or at least he didn't when he was awake before."

"You said frostbite," Tony said.

Abby nodded.

"Oh, man..." He couldn't think of anything else to say. It was so awful to see Tim in such a condition.

A couple of people pushed a gurney into the room and the trio watched as Tim was carefully lifted out of the bath, gently dried off, dressed in a hospital gown and then his hands, feet, knees and ears were all wrapped in gauze. His hands and feet were splinted as well. Abby whimpered a little bit. Tim just looked so limp. It was hard to accept that just a few hours ago they had been celebrating the coming return to normal. Tim would be back at work on light duty and they could all put the cancer scare behind them. Tim would be fine.

But now, as Tim was wheeled past them to a room, and they followed along, it seemed as though all the relief and happiness had been snatched away before they even had time to enjoy it, leaving fear and anxiety in their wake.

Before they could all go into the room, Gibbs stopped them and gestured to Tim's doctor.

"Can you tell us what to expect?"

"You're all his friends?"

"Coworkers," Tony said.

"Friends," Abby corrected and glared.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Basically."

Dr. Jamison smiled.

"Okay. Why don't we go over to my office and have a seat?"

Gibbs nodded and Tony looked at Ziva. He didn't want to leave Tim alone but he also wanted to know what was going on. So they all followed Dr. Jamison to his office and sat down.

"So...what do you know?" Tony asked. "Ziva and I don't know much."

Dr. Jamison nodded. "Where to begin... Your friend was in stage-two hypothermia when he came in here. He also had a serious head injury as well as frostbite on his extremities. How long he was out in the storm, we don't know, but because of his head trauma, we did a CT scan as soon as we got his body temperature up to a safe level. Luckily, there was no sign of bleeding on his brain. There is some degree of swelling which might account for his continued amnesia. We're going to be watching him closely to make sure that the swelling doesn't get worse. Then, there's the frostbite. He has it in the typical places: hands, feet, ears. He also has some frostbite on his knees. His pants were very wet when he arrived. It's possible that he was wandering out in the storm, fell down, let his knees get wet. That would only make the possible frostbite worse. I can't tell you whether or not he'll lose anything. The frostbite on his toes is pretty bad. His fingers...aren't _as_ bad. The tops of his ears are the worst. Luckily for him, he was taking _some_ steps to protect his face. So he doesn't have any severe frostbite on his face. Right now, it looks just like the much milder frostnip."

"How long will it take until you know what will happen?" Tony asked.

"At least a few weeks. His hands and feet will look worse before they look better. Unless we see some sign of gangrene or necrotic skin, we won't amputate right away."

Tony leaned back and sighed. This was just not what any of them had expected would come after the last scare.

"What about the surgery he had before?" Ziva asked. "Did he damage himself at all?"

"Not that we could see. He certainly was exerting himself more than I'd want him to, but he didn't cause any damage. You can be grateful for small favors. The one thing you should keep in mind is that he'll likely recover from all this. It will be a long recovery and, at the beginning, it will be painful and discouraging, _but_ I would say that he can fully recover, even if it becomes necessary to amputate."

Tony winced. He didn't like to imagine Tim missing fingers or toes. Even if Tim could live that way, Tony didn't like to think about it.

"It _is_ a real possibility; so you need to adjust to that. Your friend will have a hard enough time accepting it himself. He needs to see that it's okay. Can you do that?"

"We can," Gibbs said.

Tony wasn't so sure at this point, but he swallowed and nodded along with Ziva and Abby.

"What about his family?"

"We're going to call them. His father is in the Navy, on active duty right now. His sister is in school." Abby started fretting. "We'll have to make sure they know! It's going to be so hard."

"Make sure they know that he's alive and he'll stay that way. Yes, he's injured, but he's very much alive."

Abby nodded.

"Can we see him now?"

"Yes. He's asleep now, but he could wake up at any time. So it would be good for him to have people he knows there with him."

"Will he remember?"

"It's entirely possible that he won't, but it's also possible that he will. It's really dependent on the individual case."

"He doesn't remember that everything was okay. I hate that he didn't know, that he was waking up thinking that there was still all that fear."

"Sometimes, being exposed to the memories brings them back. You'll just have to wait and see. For now, go and sit with your friend."

Abby jumped to her feet, ready to obey the order instantly. Tony got up more slowly and lagged behind the others as they headed for Tim's room. Gibbs noticed and gestured for Abby and Ziva to go ahead of them while he lingered.

"What's up, Tony?"

"I don't want to..." Tony shrugged. "If Tim has to lose fingers or toes...I mean...he lives on a computer! What will happen? And if he doesn't have his toes...could he still be an agent? And how do we tell him that it's a possibility?"

"For now, we don't need to worry about that. It's not a given, and what he needs to worry about more is just getting better. A concussion and hypothermia were a lot more likely to kill him than frostbite."

"I know. I know that, Boss, but..."

"We all have what seems the worst to us...but what matters right now..."

"Is Tim. I know."

"Good. Then, let's go."

"Who's going to call his family?"

"I am."

Tony was relieved.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby sat down. Ziva could see her resist the urge to grab Tim's hands...which were currently splinted and wrapped in gauze. The room was warm. Tim had blankets over most his exposed skin. He was wrapped up to keep him warm while his body recovered from the hypothermia.

"I am glad that you were worried, Abby," Ziva said. "You saved his life."

"But he doesn't..."

"It does not matter. He is alive, and when he is feeling better, he will thank you for saving him."

"I hope so."

Tim didn't move as they looked at him. He was deep asleep. His face looked a bit chafed by the wind, and if it weren't for how serious everything was, he would look almost comical with the gauze on his ears, his hands and his feet. ...but it was too serious.

"Where's his car?" Abby asked, suddenly. "Tim drove to Shenandoah, but we didn't see his car."

"Tony and I found an abandoned car on the side of the road," Ziva said. She considered. "What if someone stole his car? He would stop to see if they needed help if he thought he could do something. They could have attacked him and left him there."

Abby nodded.

"That could explain it. ...if so...we need to find him and..."

"You're not allowed to kill anyone, Abbs," Gibbs said as he and Tony came in.

"But this could be the explanation for what happened," Ziva said. "And if it is, we should find his car. We should check on that car and see if we are right."

"Not right now," Gibbs said. "We'll report the car, but our place is here right now."

Abby nodded and then leaned over and kissed Tim on the forehead.

"We'll be here," she said. "However long we need to."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim felt himself waking up. He remembered not enjoying it before and he shivered with remembered cold. Was he remembering right that he had been rescued from the cold? This didn't feel the same way as he'd felt the last time he woke up. Something was different, but he didn't know what it was.

"Timothy, are you back with us, again?"

Tim thought that this was not who he had expected to hear. It was enough to get him to try to open his eyes and mumble. He wasn't sure he actually said any words, but he made noise. He heard a soft chuckle in response.

"That is encouraging. Perhaps once you're more awake."

Tim could feel sources of pain, but they were muted. Sound was muffled, though, and he didn't know what caused that. He tried to open his eyes again and succeeded this time. Sure enough, it was Ducky sitting beside him.

"Ducky...where...were you here...before?"

"Before what?"

"When I woke up...before? I don't...remember seeing you."

"I wasn't here, lad. Don't worry."

"Ducky..."

"Yes, lad?"

"What's happened?"

"Well, that is a story I can't completely tell you, but you've been asleep for some hours. Long enough for your family to be called and for them to promise to come as soon as they can. Long enough for the storm you were caught in to end. Long enough for me to arrive to give everyone else a chance to sleep."

"How long?"

"It's nearly noon on the day after your injury."

Tim nodded a little and closed his eyes again.

"Don't worry, lad. We can wait."

He was glad and fell asleep again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Tim woke up off and on over the next day. He woke up once while they were doing something with his hands. He woke up once and could have sworn he was in water. There was always someone with him. Once he thought it was Jimmy. Once he thought it was Tony and Ziva. It was easier to sleep than figure stuff out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next time he awakened, he felt more alert.

Ducky was still there...or else there again.

"Good morning, lad. Your parents should be here later today. They were delayed by the storm. How are you feeling?"

"Tired, confused...kind of...closed in...headache...body aches...cold..." Tim smiled a little. "Miserable."

"All of which do not surprise me. You've had a nasty time."

"What did happen to me?"

"We're not certain. We _think_ that someone attacked you and stole your car while you were driving through Shenandoah. In fact, I believe that a BOLO has been put out to find your car because it is definitely not in Shenandoah, nor is it at your apartment."

Tim closed his eyes and then opened them again and stared at the ceiling. For a few minutes, he lay there in silence, and it seemed that Ducky was okay with that. Tim wasn't sure how he felt at the moment. Memories of his time in the storm reminded him of what he had been thinking before. He was afraid of what he'd thought, but he didn't really want anyone to know what he'd been thinking, either. He looked at Ducky.

"Ducky...no one else is here, right?"

"No, lad. Why?"

"I want to ask you something, but...but I don't want anyone to know if...if I was completely wrong. I'd rather not have anyone know."

"What is it?"

Tim leaned back and stared at the ceiling again. The feelings and thoughts he'd had while wandering through the storm were coming back very clearly, even if the events themselves were not, and he really needed to have someone tell him explicitly that what he'd thought wasn't true.

"Timothy, I promise that no one will know if you'd rather keep it to yourself."

"I...I couldn't remember who I was when I first woke up, but I did remember after a few minutes...and I remembered the tumor and I saw that I'd had the surgery...but I didn't remember what had happened after. I still don't really. Abby said that I was fine." He looked at Ducky for confirmation.

Ducky nodded. "You are."

"...but I thought...when I was there...that...that maybe...what if...I had gone out there to die? What if the tumor had been malignant and untreatable and I was going to die miserably? What if...my intention had been to commit suicide and I'd just not gotten it right?" Tim swallowed. "...and I wasn't sure if I should keep trying to live when I didn't know if I'd been trying to die. Can you just tell me that everything was okay...that there was no reason for me to be thinking like that...because it scares me, Ducky. I don't know why I thought of it..."

Tim felt Ducky squeeze his arm through the blankets.

"Everything was definitely okay, Timothy. There _was_ no reason for you to be considering that, but if you only remembered your fear from before your surgery... May I ask if you were really that afraid? You kept up a brave face although we all knew you were frightened."

Tim nodded. "Even when they told me that it was probably benign, I was still afraid that it wouldn't be, that I'd just end up dying. I was terrified...because my grandpa died of cancer."

"Then, I can understand your fears when you woke up not knowing what was happening. Timothy, it's all right. You still tried to live."

"I didn't want to die."

Tim looked at Ducky for about the first time and saw him smile gently.

"Of course you didn't."

"But why did I think of it at all?"

"Because you had been injured. You were suffering from a concussion. You were in the early stages of hypothermia. You were alone, confused and afraid. It's not shameful to feel that kind of fear and not have anything to balance it. I can tell you that you were very happy when the news came that everything was going to be all right. Everyone was ecstatic, relieved."

"Why can't I remember, Ducky?"

"Because you were injured. Head injuries can cause amnesia. Hypothermia can also cause amnesia. You have suffered from both. Your doctor also said that there is still some minor swelling that could be affecting your memory. It isn't bad enough to warrant surgery and it has been resolving itself. You may yet remember, particularly when you leave the hospital."

"When _will_ I leave?"

Ducky smiled.

"Have you noticed, yet, Timothy that you are currently wearing a lot of bandages?"

Tim blinked and then looked down at himself. His hands were wrapped in gauze. His feet were elevated. He looked back up at Ducky.

"What–?"

"Frostbite, Timothy. I think it was mentioned before, but I'm not sure that it really sank in. Not that I blame you."

"Frostbite?" Tim looked at his gauze-wrapped hands. "What does that mean?"

"It means that the doctors have been taking care to protect your damaged tissues from the open air. It means that you have a long recovery ahead of you."

Tim looked at his hands.

"My hands?"

"Your feet as well, and your ears and knees."

Tim swallowed and took a breath.

"So...does that mean that...my hands and feet are going to...fall off or something?" he asked, trying to laugh.

"No, it does not," Ducky said gently.

The tone of Ducky's response made Tim more worried.

"But it's serious."

"Yes, it is. I would have waited and let Dr. Jamison explain it, but if you'd rather I tell you..."

Tim nodded.

"Very well. What we have been told is that your feet were much more severely frostbitten than any other part of you. Your hands have blistered but with clear blisters that have been drained and Dr. Jamison is hopeful that you will recover full use of your hands...although it may take some therapy which will begin once you return to DC. Your legs, mostly your knees, are in much the same state. There may be some tissue loss but there are none of the signs of deep frostbite that would indicate damage to the bones or muscles. Your ears are mostly frostbitten at the top and Dr. Jamison feels that some tissue loss is likely there, but only in a minor way."

Tim nodded and tried to stay calm.

"And my feet?"

Ducky leaned forward and gently patted Tim's leg.

"It is possible that they may have to amputate your toes, Timothy, perhaps more."

Tim tried not to feel that sick twisting in his stomach. It was just like he'd felt when his doctor had first told him of the growth in his abdomen. He couldn't see that this was much better. His fear must have shown in his eyes.

"This is not life-threatening, Timothy. This is not going to kill you, nor does it necessarily mean that you'll lose your livelihood. Even if it becomes necessary, you can still be yourself."

Tim nodded and tried not to cry, but he was afraid. He was terrified. He couldn't understand why this had happened to him. What had he done to deserve this new blow? Wasn't a cancer scare bad enough? Wasn't that enough? He closed his eyes tightly and tried to hold back the tears he could feel in his eyes.

Then, he felt Ducky lift him enough to hug him...and he felt the tears escape his eyes and he hugged Ducky back.

"Why me?" he asked. "Why me, Ducky? What did I do to deserve this?"

"I don't know why you, lad, but I do know that you don't _deserve_ it. It just happens."

"But why?"

"I can't answer that."

Tim knew that, but it was so hard to accept that this was just another miserable moment...when he'd thought he was past all that.

"You're going to be all right, Timothy. There will likely be some rough moments, but we'll be here for you. That I can promise."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"When can we leave?" Tony asked. "This snowstorm has made all the criminals stay home. We should go and visit to see how things are going with McGee!"

"His family will be there," Ziva said. "They have been here and may not leave until they must. Sarah told me that the admiral will be heading back to his post in another day or two and that their mother will be going back as well. They want to be sure that McGee will be taken care of after they leave."

"Of course he will! He's going to be at the hospital for days more and then he'll be staying with Ducky until he's ready to go back to his apartment!"

"I know that and so do you, but..."

Gibbs strode in and they broke off their conversation.

"Hey, Boss, can we–?"

"They found McGee's car."

Ziva got to her feet.

"They did? Where?"

"Wrapped around a tree in Maryland. Guy's still in there."

"Who is it?"

"You mean _was_."

"He is dead?"

"Good thing, if he's the one who stole the Probie's car," Tony said darkly. "I'd be second in line to kill him. ...after Abby."

"I'm going out there."

Tony and Ziva didn't even pause. They grabbed their coats and started to follow. They wanted to see what had happened and what would come out of it. Then, they could go to the hospital and tell Tim that they knew what had happened. His memory was gradually coming back, but he still had absolutely no glimmers of anything on the day of his injury until he had awakened in Shenandoah. Maybe if they could get this clarified, they would be able to help Tim regain his memory.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a bit of a drive to get to the county road where Tim's car had met its end...but it was worth it.

Gibbs walked over to the MSP officer and held out his badge for identification.

"What do you know?" he asked.

"That there are some people in New York who will be really glad this guy is dead."

"Who is he?"

"Wayne Dallas. Cop killer. He escaped from prison a few days ago down south and it looks like he was headed back to his old stomping grounds. From what I understand, there were some squealers who were instrumental in getting him caught."

"Dallas? That's the guy they were talking about on ZNN," Tony said.

"That's him. Looks like he was driving the car during the snowstorm. Driving too fast. Bad roads. Took a corner at the wrong speed. The tree won. So much snow got dumped in the storm that these back roads just weren't maintained, not enough plows for it. I heard that the guy he stole the car from was a Navy cop?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Tim McGee."

"How is he?"

"Has a concussion. Almost died of hypothermia. Could lose some digits to frostbite."

The officer shook his head and cursed softly.

"Well, that makes it hard for me to regret his death at all. In fact, I hope the ME finds that he was stuck in that car alive and conscious while he froze to death."

"I think we feel the same way. Tim is our teammate."

"I figured. You want to take a look at him?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"No. Just the car."

"Feel free."

Gibbs walked over to the car, followed by Tony and Ziva.

"It's a write-off, isn't it," Tony said.

The car was totaled, but it was definitely Tim's car. Gibbs walked over and looked through the shattered windshield. He saw, with a bit of a pang, a snow-covered hat on the floor of the car. Tim _had_ been prepared for weather. He just hadn't been prepared for being attacked by an escaped murderer.

"His insurance will cover it, though, will it not?" Ziva asked. "It was stolen."

"Yeah, probably," Tony said. "Still sucks, though."

"Yes. It does."

"So...what will we tell McGee?"

"The truth. We found out who stole his car. It was wrecked but it can be fixed...or replaced," Gibbs said.

"And when that doesn't make him feel any better?" Tony asked.

"We will still be there," Ziva said. "He will not be alone."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Three weeks later..._

The constant worry Tim felt about his situation finally got to him. They had transferred him to WHC the week before so that he could be closer to his friends, but they were being very careful about releasing him. He'd had some infection and he had taken longer than they had expected to regain any kind of energy. He had tried to be upbeat when the others were around. He had sent his family back to their lives with a declaration that Ducky would take good care of him when he left the hospital and so would the others. Even Penny had reluctantly returned to her winter vacation after he had urged her to. He had continuously sworn that he would be all right by himself while the others were at work, that the hospital staff would take good care of him.

...and then, once they were all gone, and he was alone, he looked at his bandaged hands, knowing they were blistered and swollen, and the bandages covering his frightening feet and he started to cry. This wasn't something he'd do when anyone was around. It was one thing to lean on Ducky when he had only recently awakened from sleep and just been told what could happen. It was another all together when he had been told everything and the others thought it was going well.

As far as Tim himself was concerned, it wasn't. He had no car, not that he could drive it at the moment anyway. He had little ability to take care of himself. ...and he might lose more than just his car.

Right now, his toes had turned a disgusting black with a hard crust. So had the tips of his ears. So had parts of his knees. His hands had what his doctor had called an eschar. It was gross, disgusting and the swelling was still kind of painful, but he had been told that viable skin could be underneath and that they would just have to wait until the eschar sloughed off. Until that time, Tim hated seeing his hands and feet. He couldn't see his ears, but he knew they looked no better. It was just so hard to accept all this. He hated it.

So he was crying right now while he was alone and no one could tell him that it was okay. Since he didn't think it was, he hated people telling him otherwise.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim lifted his head and tried to suppress his tears.

"Yes?"

"It's time for your hydrotherapy."

Tim nodded and cleared his throat.

"Okay. That's fine."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay. Let's get you going."

"Okay."

The nurse helped him to the hydrotherapy room, helped him get into the whirlpool bath and then instructed him to relax as the water circulated around his body. He chose to stare at the ceiling. It let him avoid looking at his hands, feet and knees.

"I'll be right back in a minute or two, Agent McGee. If you have any trouble, just call out."

"Okay."

The nurse left and Tim was by himself. The water did feel nice, but that didn't mean that the reason for being in it went away.

True to her word, the nurse was back quite quickly, but she respected his desire for silence. Tim was grateful. He didn't want anyone saying how well things were going.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs hung up the phone and sat back to think. Tim had seemed quite upbeat about his situation, but to have someone call and tell him that Tim had been crying when there was no new bad news or anything...it was a bit of a surprise because it indicated that Tim had been hiding how he felt and that things weren't as good as he had been saying they were.

It needed addressing, but the method of addressing it. One-on-one or as a group? He looked at Tony and Ziva who were both working through some old case files. They had been very supportive, but Tim hadn't confided in them, either.

After a few seconds, Gibbs decided to do it by himself first and then tell the others about it...or not. It would depend on how things went. Tim had been quite the trooper during the cancer scare, but Ducky had mentioned that Tim had confessed to be a lot more afraid than he'd let on to anyone else. Perhaps this was the same.

But Gibbs didn't want to leave Tim fighting discouragement on his own when he didn't have to. Decision made, Gibbs silently planned to take his lunch hour to visit Tim and see if he could get him to talk this time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs managed to get out of NCIS without any questions from the others. Thankfully. He hated having to explain himself.

When he arrived at the hospital, he walked to Tim's room. As expected, Tim was by himself. He'd probably already had all his therapy for the day. Instead of watching TV or reading or anything, Tim was just lying there, not sleeping, staring at the ceiling. His feet were propped up to help reduce the edema. They all knew that the doctors were not optimistic about the likelihood that Tim would be able to avoid any amputation at all. The situation had not been good.

Small wonder if Tim felt upset.

"Hey, McGee," he said as he walked in.

Tim looked over at him.

"What are you doing here, Boss?"

"Visiting."

"But why? It's the middle of the day."

Tim wasn't giving up any information. ...which said something in and of itself. Gibbs decided to nip it in the bud.

"Because one of the nurses here called me and said she found you crying in your room this morning."

Tim's eyes flicked away, back to the ceiling.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

"I think you should."

Tim shook his head.

"Won't change anything."

"Wrong place, wrong time, Tim. It wasn't your fault."

"I know that."

"They're pretty sure that your hands are going to heal up fine."

"But not my feet."

"Maybe not."

"I'm not in the mood, Boss."

"For what?"

There was a silence, but it seemed as though Tim was battling with himself, deciding whether or not he wanted to be honest.

Tim went for honesty. He looked at him.

"I'm not in the mood to listen to another useless pep talk, okay? I'm not in the mood to have one more person tell me that it's going to be okay. I'm not in the mood to have someone else tell me that I can still live my life even if I lose parts of me." There were tears. "I'm not in the mood for that. Any of it. I don't want to hear it because it's not true! You can't make me feel better. It's not okay! And it's not going to be the same! So stop telling me that it is! Okay? Just stop!"

Gibbs walked over and sat down. He looked at Tim in silence, causing his agent to lean back in bed and stare at the ceiling again. He was fighting back the tears, blinking furiously in his effort to avoid crying. His face still looked a bit chafed but he had been fortunate in avoiding anything more than frostnip on his face. And his eyes were as expressive as ever. He was covering it in anger, but Tim was afraid. There was probably some anger at the situation, but most of it was fear about what could still come.

"Let it out, Tim. Say what you've been wanting to say. There's no reason to hide it."

Tim shook his head.

"Say it."

"Why me?" Tim asked. "It's not fair. Wasn't everything else I went through before this enough? I was...I was so afraid that I was going to die, Boss. I thought it was just a stomachache and it wasn't. I thought that I'd die. ...and then, everything was finally okay, and it was all getting back to normal. ...and then..." Tim lifted his bandaged hands and the first tears ran down his cheeks. "...and then, I got stuck with this. Some escaped criminal needs a car and he steals mine and leaves me to die! What did I do? I can't even remember what happened in there. I don't know what he did or said to get me to help him. Did he threaten me? Did he just fool me into stopping? I don't know! He didn't just take my car. He took part of my memory! He took part of my life! ...and now...now, I could...lose something more than that." Tim closed his eyes and swallowed hard and then let out a quick breath and inhaled quickly. "Why?"

"I don't know why, Tim."

"That's because there's _no_ reason! That's because it doesn't make any sense. That's because life isn't fair and all it seems to want to do is see how far it can knock me down! Boss...I'm..." He closed his eyes again as more tears escaped but he still fought the urge to cry. "I don't want to have to look at myself and see things missing! I don't want to wake up one day and look at my feet and have...half of them gone. I don't want to look in a mirror and see my ears deformed. I don't want to get dressed in the morning and see places on my legs where the tissue has been eaten away. I don't want to go through weeks and weeks of therapy on my hands only to have them not work right. I don't want any of it."

Finally, Tim couldn't hold it back anymore and he started to cry. He was embarrassed about it, Gibbs could tell. Tim wouldn't look at him. He just kept his eyes locked on the ceiling. Seeing how deeply Tim felt about this surprised Gibbs. He had expected some problems, but not this kind of deep-seated fear. Tim was terrified at the prospect of having any part of him amputated.

...and it galled him to admit it, but he didn't know what to say to help Tim through this. Any of the things he had mentioned were potential outcomes, and they wouldn't know for a few more weeks yet whether or not they would actually occur. Frostbite took a long time to heal. His doctors here had already said it might be upwards of six months before Tim was ready to come back to work again, depending on how things progressed.

...but Tim was alive and he'd stay that way. In spite of the fact that he didn't want to hear it, there was a _lot_ of good news that had come out of this. The concussion hadn't resulted in a brain bleed although Tim seemed to have permanently lost all memory of the few days before he was attacked. He had finally remembered having surgery and its positive outcome and he had remembered wanting to go to Shenandoah. At worst, he'd lose a few toes, maybe some tissue on his legs. He had managed to protect his hands enough that they hadn't received the same level of damage and that meant that, once the eschar sloughed off, viable skin would likely be revealed, although it would need protection for a while.

Those were all things that could be worse but weren't. Maybe Tim needed to hear it even though he said he didn't want to.

"Tim...I know you don't agree, and I know that you're going to be mad about it, but you _are_ lucky."

Tim shook his head.

"No, I'm not! I wish people would stop telling me that!"

"You're alive and you could be dead. Much longer out there and you would have been. The hypothermia would have killed you. Much longer out there and you would have permanently damaged your hands and possibly all of your feet, not just your toes. Much longer out there and you might have had another fall that would have done more than sprained your ankle. I understand if you don't think your situation is good. It's _not_, but it's a whole lot better than it could have been."

Another head shake.

"Tim..."

"I was trying to get my life back when I went out there," Tim whispered. "And all I got was more of it taken away. Sorry if I can't see that this is a positive thing. If I hadn't gone...it wouldn't have happened. If I had taken someone with me, it wouldn't have happened. All I can see are the might-have-beens...and it really, really sucks."

"What would you do if the doctor came in right now and told you that he was going to amputate your toes?"

"Resent it," Tim said. "What could I do? I've seen pictures of what can happen if necrotic tissue spreads. And if I left it long enough, they would just fall off. Self-amputate. I don't have any choice in this, Boss. If they don't cut them off, my body will do it for them. There is nothing that I can do but hope that it doesn't happen. ...but we all know that it will. They don't know how far beyond my toes they'll have to go, but we all know that they're going to go at least that far."

"You need to see past this, Tim. If you can't adjust to it, it's going to poison your life. If you're sure of it, and I'll admit that it seems likely, then, you need to stop resenting it and start looking at the positive side of it."

Tim scoffed.

"I'm not saying it's easy. It's not, but you've got to start because this attitude is not going to help."

"Yeah, because all I have to do is think of my favorite things and then I won't feel so bad?" Tim said sarcastically.

Gibbs swatted him lightly on the head.

"If that helps."

"It doesn't."

"Have you actually tried?" Gibbs asked. "Or have you just let yourself wallow in self pity?"

"I think I have the right to wallow a bit."

"But for how long?"

Tim glared at him...the effect lessened by the tears in his eyes.

"How long am I supposed to take to adjust to the fact that I'm not going to be whole anymore? That life seems bent on beating me down?"

"Did you feel like this when you were waiting to find out what was wrong with you before?"

"Huh?"

"You had a stomachache that wouldn't go away. You went to your doctor. He couldn't figure it out. You still had the pain. Then, they found the growth. Did you decide to wallow or did you just keep on hoping for the best?"

Tim shrugged and looked away.

"That's a real question. Which was it?"

"Both."

"How long was it both?"

"I don't know, Boss," Tim muttered. "I wasn't marking down the times when I felt like life wasn't fair and the times when I hoped it would all work out. I was scared no matter what else I was feeling."

"And now?"

"What about now?"

"It's okay to be scared. It's even okay to be mad, but you have the same hope here...better, actually."

Tim scoffed. "Better how?"

"You know that you'll live through this. You _know_, even if you don't like it right now, that you can still walk, that you can still be yourself. You just have to take the time."

"I don't want to!" Tim shouted. "All right, Boss? I don't _want_ to take the time yet again to try and get my life back! I don't want to! ...because it'll just be in time for something else in my life to go completely wrong! Maybe next time, I'll be paralyzed from the neck down. I'll have my mind intact so that I can be aware of just how much I've lost! What's the point?"

Gibbs sat there for a moment and then asked the question.

"Is that really how you feel?" he asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't see the point in living because you might lose a few toes? Your life is dependent on that, Tim? Really?"

To his surprise, it worked. Tim's anger seemed to deflate almost instantly. He swallowed and looked away. Gibbs judged that the time was right to make some pointed comments. Some would be mostly to get a reaction, but Tim needed to see where his attitude could lead.

"I didn't think it would be so easy to destroy you, Tim. You're a lot stronger than that. A few toes is all it takes for you to give up on life completely? You'll still be able to walk. You'll still be able to be an agent. It might take time before you're ready to come back, but you'll be able to. You're sitting here, wallowing in your misery, acting like this is the worst thing that could have happened to you, like it's a death sentence when that's exactly what you avoided...because there are people who worry about you and are willing to take the time to find you. You are not alone in this, Tim. You're not abandoned by anyone. You're going to suffer from what happened but it doesn't have to consume every aspect of your life. If all you want is my pity, you've got it...but not because of your injuries. My pity is because of your attitude."

He stood up and started to leave.

"Boss..."

It was whispered but that was all he needed. Gibbs had been hoping that Tim wouldn't let him go, that he wouldn't _want_ him to go.

"What?" he asked, turning around.

"It's not my toes...or it's not..._just_ that."

"What is it, then?"

"It's... I don't know...I just know that...that it's..." Tim looked at his hands. "I feel like I...I did this to myself."

"You didn't."

"But I feel like I did because...because all I remember is wanting to go to Shenandoah. I don't remember Dallas at all. I don't remember him attacking me. I don't remember anything but wanting to go to Shenandoah and then being there, all alone." Tim looked up. "I know what you've all said. I'm sure it's true...but I can't...can't get rid of this feeling that I put myself in this situation, that it happened because...because I wanted to...go somewhere and be alone for a while."

"That's not why it happened."

Tim smiled painfully. "Maybe."

"No, not _maybe_. Sure, it couldn't have happened if you had chosen to stay home, but that doesn't mean that you're to blame for it happening."

"I'm afraid, Boss."

There it was. The admission Gibbs had wanted Tim to make. He'd admitted to being scared before but not right now.

"It's okay to be scared."

"I just want it to go away."

"It doesn't work like that."

"I know. That's the worst part. I just have to wait and wait and wait until they're sure that there's no hope...even though we all know..."

Gibbs looked at Tim's feet. They were bandaged as usual. He knew that Tim was scheduled for another bandage change soon. So he figured it wouldn't hurt to unwrap them now. He leaned over and began removing the gauze.

"What are you doing, Boss?" Tim asked.

Gibbs didn't answer. He just took his time. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tim tensing. He didn't like looking. He didn't blame him. Tim's feet looked disgusting. There was no other way to put it.

He carefully unwrapped both of his feet, exposing them to Tim's view.

"Look at them now, Tim."

"I've seen them," Tim said, averting his eyes.

Tim's feet were a mess. Most of his toes were either missing toenails completely or what remained was discolored. His big toenail was as black as the rest of his skin. His toes were covered by a black eschar which ended just below the base of them. It was an abrupt border and was surrounded by shriveled skin. His toes looked warped as well.

"Just look at them. Get used to them, Tim...and get used to the idea that it's not your fault they're like this."

There were more tears that Tim tried to hold back, but he looked at his ugly feet. Gibbs squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

"You don't need to hide that, Tim...not your feet or your fear."

"I...I wake up every morning and all I can think about is how far there is to go and what brought me here."

"There's a long way to go...but it's your friends that brought you here...when we found you out there."

Tim closed his eyes and nodded.

"I know."

"We'll be here, Tim. No matter what comes next."

Tim nodded again and let the tears fall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_One month later..._

"We've got to be there, Boss! McGee _told_ us that he'd be finding out about his feet today. I know it's the middle of the day but we've got to be there," Tony insisted.

"I will stay two hours later this evening," Ziva said. "Every day this week if it is necessary. We _must_ be there. Tim should not have to face this alone."

"There's not a case right now. We're just wrapping up some reports. We can do that anytime."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Ducky and Jimmy are going," Tony said. "They don't have any bodies to process right now. We can't not be there. Abby took the day off just so that she could be there. We can't be the only ones not there."

"So he _won't_ be alone," Gibbs said.

"Well...no...but..."

"But we are his team," Ziva said. "We need to be there."

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva...and then nodded.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was happy to have everyone there with him, but at the same time, he was _not_ happy about what the results of this meeting would likely be. He had tried not to focus on the possibility, but even after he'd been released from the hospital, he had been essentially homebound (or Ducky's-home bound) because he hadn't been able to walk on his frostbitten feet. The possibility of fragile new skin forming beneath the crust meant that great care had to be taken not to damage it before it had a chance to strengthen.

Now, as he waited for Dr. Egbert to come in and tell him the news, he felt the all-too-familiar twisting in his gut. Fear. He swallowed and took a deep breath.

Abby hugged him tightly.

"It's okay to be worried, Tim."

"Good...because I am."

Dr. Egbert came in before anyone could say anything else.

"All right, Tim. Are you ready?"

"Sure..." Tim said with a weak smile.

"Okay. Your choice. Good news or bad news first?"

"Bad news. Let's get it over with."

"Okay. We'll start with your feet, then. You already know that they're the worst."

"Yeah."

"Okay. The bad news is that we're not seeing _any_ sign of viable skin on significant portions of your toes. In fact, there's danger of necrotic tissue spreading at this point. So we do have to amputate."

Tim nodded and tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach.

"I know that this is something you didn't want to hear even if you knew it was a possibility...but there's some good news in the midst of this."

"Is there?" Tim asked in a small voice.

"Yes. We will have to amputate all the toes on your right foot, but we don't have to go into the metatarsals. That means that you'll be better able to regain a normal gait after recovery. We're going to make sure that there's enough healthy tissue to protect your bones, but I think that you'll get a good result there. On your left foot, I actually think that we won't have to amputate your big toe and the toe next to it. There is some sign of viable tissue there. So we'll have to amputate the other three, but you'll still have two and that will make a difference, believe it or not."

"Okay...what next?" Tim asked, feeling someone squeeze his shoulder in support. He was really glad that he wasn't hearing all this alone.

"Let's just move right on up. Your knees. We'll have to do some debridement. There will be some tissue loss, but it will be minimal. The frostbite didn't destroy all the tissue and it didn't affect the bone. So...not great, but tolerable. Now, the ears. We have to debride as well. It will make your ears look a little deformed, but the debridement will be as conservative as possible."

Tim nodded again. It was much what he'd expected but it was still hard to hear.

"I believe you've skipped a part, Dr. Egbert," Ducky said softly.

Tim looked at Ducky and then down at his hands.

"Yes, I did. I wanted to end on the most positive note."

"Positive?" Tim asked, hardly daring to guess for fear of being wrong.

"Yes, Tim. Very positive. The frostbite on your hands has _not_ led to any need for amputation. It's going to take long time, some difficult physical therapy, but I don't see any reason why you couldn't completely recover your dexterity...so long as you don't rush it."

Tim looked at his hands again. They'd already started physical therapy on his hands and they had been looking more normal and it seemed like they were okay, but he had been afraid of hoping for it.

"I get to keep my hands?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yes, you do," Dr. Egbert said. "The frostbite wasn't nearly as bad as it was on your feet and since the eschar has been sloughing away, it's shown new skin. So while it wouldn't have been the end of the world, you won't have to deal with amputation of any part of your hands."

Tim felt tears prick his eyelids. It was relief...but he was feeling overwhelmed by the good _and_ the bad news.

"I'll let it all sink in. We can talk about the details later."

Tim nodded and closed his eyes. He just focused on breathing. He didn't want to start crying now. He just had two thoughts going through his head...on repeat.

_They're cutting off my toes. I get to keep my hands. They're cutting off my toes. I get to keep my hands._

"Timothy?"

Tim couldn't answer. If he tried to talk right now, he was pretty sure he'd break down. He wasn't sure which feeling was more overpowering. The knowledge that he'd get to keep his hands or the knowledge that he was going to have his toes amputated.

Abby's arms disappeared from around him and then Ducky's comforting arm went around his shoulder.

"Timothy, how are you feeling? I would wager a trifle overwhelmed?"

Tim nodded without opening his eyes or speaking.

"Take your time. We're not going to rush you."

Tim nodded again.

Silence reigned for a few minutes until Tim finally judged that he could speak without embarrassing himself. He opened his eyes and looked around at everyone with a slight smile.

"I'm going to...have to buy new shoes," he said...and couldn't hold back a few tears even as he managed a laugh.

"I'll bet you can just get some special inserts," Abby said, smiling encouragingly.

"No, no!" Tony said. "He can go shoe shopping! I'll help!"

Tim laughed again, still trying to keep himself from crying.

"I'll let you, Tony."

"Are you all right?" Jimmy asked.

That was the question Tim had hoped no one would ask.

"I'm still deciding, Jimmy."

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay."

Ziva leaned in and kissed Tim on the cheek.

"I am happy that there was good news for you."

"Me, too."

Tim looked at Gibbs for a moment. He hadn't said anything yet.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee?"

"I'm trying."

Gibbs smiled. "I know you are. You don't have be perfect, McGee. Sometimes, trying is enough."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Tim tried to hold back the tears for a little bit longer but then he looked around at them.

"They're going to cut off part of my feet," he said and then he let out some of the tears and covered his eyes with a bandaged hand.

Ducky's arm stayed around his shoulders.

"It's all right, lad. We're here for you."

Tim laughed a little bit and wiped at his eyes with his wrist.

"I'll bet...there are people who lose their whole leg who haven't reacted like this. I'm kind of a wuss."

"No," Gibbs said before anyone else could.

"After everything else, Tim, how could you just sit back and be okay with it right away?" Abby asked. "You have time to be okay with it. You can be upset right now!"

"Okay. I will," Tim said.

Everyone stayed as long as they could, but it was still in the middle of the day and they had work to do. Eventually, Tim sent them off with a promise to keep them informed. He would be staying for his therapy and to get things settled on his surgery and Ducky would come and get him later.

Tim watched them go and then let out a whoosh of air. It was hard to accept all this, but it was slowly sinking in.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm sorry for the delay, Tim," Dr. Egbert said. "I had a couple of consultations I had to take care of."

"That's fine."

"Where's your fan club?"

Tim smiled a little. "Back at work. They couldn't take all the time off that they would have had to just to sit here with me."

"What about your parents?"

"Dad had to get back out. Sarah has school. Mom doesn't like traveling alone. So...it's just me. I got the hard stuff done with people here."

Dr. Egbert nodded.

"I understand. Well, I don't have any shocking news for you, but we're going to go through all the details here. If you want to have someone around for this..."

"No. That's okay. As long as you promise that you didn't hold anything back."

"No. What I told you is what I expect."

"Okay. Then, I can take the details."

"All right. The debridement on your knees and ears won't be that bad. We'll deaden the area and get rid of the dead tissue. Then, you'll have to let it heal. We'll have to change the bandages a lot to make sure that there's no chance for infection, but after a few days, you'll be able to have someone help you with that out of the hospital."

"The feet is the bigger problem, right?"

"Yes. It's something that's been a surgical procedure for a long time, but any time we have to remove a part of the body, it's an involved process."

"Even when my body is going to get rid of it on its own?"

"Yes. We have to see how much bone we'll preserve, but we have to make sure that we're not going to have the bone sticking out without any tissue padding it. We don't want to have the bone just beneath the skin. If you want to be active at all, that will lead to the potential for lesions which you don't want."

"No."

"That's why we look at tissue, nerves, _and_ bone. It used to be that the only thing surgeons would look at was the amount of bone they could preserve. Now, we're starting to see that we can get better results sometimes if we preserve more tissue and a little less bone."

Tim felt a bit of twisting in his gut. This wasn't just an academic conversation. It was real. It was _his_ feet, his skin and bone that they were talking about. He took a deep breath. Dr. Egbert smiled sympathetically.

"I know this is hard to digest all at once."

"Yeah...a little."

"Don't worry. I'm a good surgeon. I know what I'm doing."

Tim smiled.

"I trust you. I really do...it's just...accepting that in a little while, I'm going to look at my feet and they're going to be...a lot shorter than they were."

"But you'll still be able to walk, even run. You won't be confined to a wheelchair. You won't be held back...once your feet heal up and you have the physical therapy that will help you adjust to...the shorter feet."

Tim cleared his throat and nodded.

"So...how long do I need to...to wait until this happens?"

"A week or so. We're going to take more x rays. We're going to get this right, and that means making sure that we know exactly how far we need to go when we amputate. For now, if you're ready, let's get another set of x rays taken and we'll go from there."

"Okay."

"This is going to turn out all right, Tim. I promise. You have a lot of recovery ahead of you...but the good thing is that you _do_ have it."

"Okay." Tim nodded. "Let's go."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Two weeks later..._

While it was true that the next two weeks were preparations for the coming surgery, for Tim, it was really a chance to come to grips with what was going to happen. He was afraid of what would happen. He was afraid of losing his toes. He was afraid that something would happen and Dr. Egbert would be wrong and things _wouldn't_ turn out well.

He took a deep breath and waited. He knew the others would be coming soon. His parents were off looking for Dr. Egbert. He was waiting. They would start prepping him for surgery soon. In fact, the nurse had already taken his stats and she had said she'd be back in a few minutes.

When he woke up, he'd only have two toes instead of ten. His ears would be deformed. He'd have gaping sores on his legs.

"But I'll still have my hands," he whispered, trying to dislodge the sick feeling in his stomach. "I'll still be able to walk. It'll be okay. It'll be okay."

"You're right."

Tim looked up and smiled.

"Where's everyone else, Boss?"

"Talking to your family."

Tim nodded.

"You all right?" Gibbs asked as he sat down beside Tim.

"Sometimes. Sometimes, it's okay. Sometimes, it's not." Tim swallowed and then smiled weakly. "Right now? It's not."

"It will be."

Tim looked at his toes. They were exposed at the moment and even he could admit that there looked to be nothing worth saving on them. He looked at his hands. The skin on his fingers was extremely sensitive and he couldn't use them much, but it was a stark contrast between his hands and his feet.

"I hope so. Right now...thinking about it makes me feel sick. I don't want this to be real," Tim confessed. "I know I've had time. I know that it's going to be okay...but...right now...I just want to wake up and have it all be a dream."

"That's not going to happen, you know."

"I know." Tim took another breath. "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it's silly, but could you just tell me one more time that it's going to be okay, that it's not the end of the world that I'm only going to have two toes on my feet? Could you tell me that once?"

Gibbs nodded.

"It's going to be okay, Tim. Everything is going to work out fine. It's not the end of the world."

Tim smiled. "Thanks, Boss."

The door to the room opened, then, and it seemed like half the world had spilled inside. Abby ran over and hugged him. Ziva wished him luck. Tony cracked jokes. Ducky and Jimmy, even with as odd and chatty as they could be, barely got a word in edgewise. The NCIS people did clear the way for Tim's family, but it was only with reluctance. Tim forced a smile onto his face when he saw his mom and dad. His mom really wanted to be here with him, and he knew that his dad wouldn't have dreamed of not being here if he could possibly manage it, but still...

"How are you feeling, Tim?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Little nervous, but I'm fine."

There was a knowing look in his father's eyes. He wasn't fooled, but he was going to let Tim continue to fool his mother who just gave Tim a watery smile and kissed him on the cheek. Tim flushed a little.

"Oh, I know you're a grown man, Tim," she said. "But right now..." She shook her head and mimed locking her mouth closed. "Everything is going to be just fine, and the offer is still open."

"I know, Mom, but I'd rather stick around here. The physical therapy is really great and I'm already established. ...but that doesn't mean I won't visit and let you take care of me for a while."

As he had hoped, his mother laughed and some of her tension eased. She was strong enough to deal with all this, but he didn't want to make her if he didn't have to. Mom had gone through enough what with worrying about Dad every time he deployed.

Tim had so much attention that he was actually a little relieved when Dr. Egbert came in and ushered everyone out so that Tim could be prepped. Once everyone was gone, he let out another whoosh of air.

"Ready, Tim?"

"I guess so. Can't really change my mind."

"Well, you _could_, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"Will I feel them gone?" Tim asked.

Dr. Egbert's brow furrowed slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Will I feel my toes when they're gone? I read about it...phantom pains or something?"

"It's a remote possibility, and it rarely happens with frostbite. Your body is already rejecting the frostbitten parts and so it's much less likely to result in reactions like that...but if you do feel something like that, tell us. There are things we can do to help manage that kind of pain."

"Okay."

"Any last questions?"

"How long will it take?"

"It will seem like no time at all to you. You'll fall asleep and wake up when it's over. It will take a few hours."

"Okay."

"Just lay back and let us do our job, Tim. You'll be fine."

Tim nodded. In no time, it seemed, he was talking with the anesthesiologist and she was putting him to sleep.

"How are you feeling, Agent McGee?"

For once, Tim didn't try to hide it. In the encroaching fog, he was completely honest.

"I'm really scared."

The anesthesiologist smiled sympathetically.

"Just relax. Everything will work out. When you wake up, you'll be in recovery and we'll move you to a room after you've awakened."

Tim didn't have a chance to say anything else.

He was out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timmy? Are you awake?"

There was a voice. He thought he recognized that voice. He was stuck in the snow, though. Wasn't he?

"Timmy."

"He might not be awake yet, Sarah. Just be patient."

"I thought I saw his eyes open...just a little bit."

Two voices. What were they doing out in the snow. It was really cold.

Wasn't it? He shivered.

"Tim."

"C-Cold...Dad." He struggled to open his eyes, but he only managed it for a moment.

"Is that normal?"

"Yes. It is. I'll get him a blanket."

There was a weight over him. Not snow?

"Tim, can you hear us?"

Yes, he could hear.

Finally, he got his eyes open and saw his family. No snow.

"No snow?" he mumbled.

"No, Tim. None."

"Good."

"How are you feeling?"

"Weird."

"That's also normal, Agent McGee."

"Okay."

Tim let time pass without paying a whole lot of attention to it...or to anyone around him. At some point, they moved him into a room. He was mostly disconnected. He heard them, answered questions when asked, but there was a kind of blunted feeling to his perceptions at the moment.

"Tim, why don't you take a rest for a while. We'll be here when you wake up."

That sounded good to him. He fell asleep with no effort.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony couldn't stop looked at Tim's feet. He was alone with Tim for the moment. Tim's family was taking a break. The others were at work, but Tony had decided to take a half day and sit with Tim. The problem was that he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Tim now had two toes where he'd had ten. His ears had lost some of their size. His hands were still raw and tender.

In short, Tim was still not himself, and after the fear of the tumor before, Tony was surprised that he was still so worried about everything. It wasn't like _he_ had been the one going through it. It was all Tim.

...but he couldn't help remembering one night, shortly after Tim had told them that he had a growth in his abdomen, before they had known it was benign. Tony had decided to drop by Tim's place, hoping to cheer Tim up, help him forget his problems for a while.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Hey, McGee!" Tony said cheerily._

"_Hi," Tim said and stood back, but there was a lot of reluctance in his expression. "Tony, I'm not in the mood, okay? No cheering me up. Right now...you can't."_

_Tony was surprised at how glum Tim was. There was none of the bravado he had been showing to them all before. He'd been emphasizing the likelihood that it would be benign, that he'd have surgery and everything would be fine. ...but now, nothing was fine._

"_Hey...I'm sorry, Tim."_

_Tim sat down on his chair by his computer. He stared at the floor._

"_Tony...I just found out that I could die. If this is malignant...I could be dead. I'm sorry. I just can't be upbeat right now. I can't be excited about anything. I'm just...trying to look toward the time when these tests are done, when they can take it out...and I can hope that my life will go back to normal." Tim actually sounded a little teary. "Right now...I can't...deal with someone pretending like things are all right."_

_Tony pulled Tim's desk chair over and sat down._

"_Tim, I didn't realize how you felt...and...I'm sounding like a Hallmark card, but what I can do?"_

_Tim looked and him and managed a smile._

"_Don't let me give up...because I don't feel like myself right now. I feel like I'm halfway to dead already and...what if I go the rest of the way?"_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Now, Tony was seeing Tim with another big battle ahead of him, and Tony was afraid of seeing Tim give up again. That night had been the moment when Tony had realized just how bad things could go, and he had actually felt some fear himself. The feeling was similar now.

Tim's eyes fluttered open and he blinked a few times. Then, his eyes traveled around the room, resting briefly on Tony...and then moving to his feet. They were covered with loose bandages right now, protecting the new sutures from infection.

"Hey, Tim," Tony said softly.

"Everything went okay?" Tim asked, almost in a whisper.

"Yeah. Dr. Egbert said it went off without a hitch, everything like they expected."

Tim nodded, not seeming very happy about that.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"You all right?"

"No miracles?"

"No."

Tim nodded.

"I...I guess that's...what I should have expected. Part of me was hoping that I'd wake up and they'd have discovered that things were better than they thought. I knew it was ridiculous."

"Yeah...but that's okay."

Tim smiled a little.

"It's so...surreal. It's... I don't have toes on my right foot anymore. I only have two on my left. I..." Tim looked at Tony. "I don't know how to think about it. I'd been trying to deal with it, and I thought I had...but...it's the...reality of it." He shrugged helplessly. "I'm...deformed."

Tony laughed a little.

"No, you're not. Sure, you don't have toes, but you're not deformed."

Tim did smile.

"Sure feels like it."

"Yeah...I can see that. ...but you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm really glad that all you have to worry about is a few toes. It could have been a lot worse."

Tony glanced at Tim's feet and then away...but he knew Tim had noticed.

"This bothers you, too, doesn't it."

"Yeah...a little bit."

Tim nodded.

"Thanks, Tony."

"For what?"

"Being honest. This whole thing...it's so bizarre. I know it. Everyone knows it. I don't want to have people pretending that it's normal. It's not. It'll have to _become_ normal, but it's not yet. So thanks."

Tony smiled. "I'm glad that admitting it's bizarre helps."

Tim's smile actually became a little mischievous. "I didn't say it helped."

Tony laughed out loud.

"Thanks, McGee."

Tim laughed, too...but then got a little teary...much like that night.

"I'm scared, Tony."

"Don't be. We'll all be here. We won't let you give up."

Tim's expression told Tony that he was remembering the same night.

"Thanks, Tony. I don't want to."

"Then, you won't."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Three weeks later..._

Tim was sitting in on his bed, staring at his feet. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his right foot ended in a stump and that his left foot had only two toes. He wished that he could adjust his mind to seeing that every morning. He had been back in his own apartment for a little over a week, and it was still an adjustment. It had been three weeks since his surgery and he still couldn't square what he was looking at right at this moment with his conception of himself.

Two toes left out of ten.

After a moment of hesitation, Tim reached out and rubbed his fingers over the stump of his right foot and the lumps of his left. It felt weird. He wasn't walking much yet. Dr. Egbert didn't want him putting too much pressure on his feet until they were sure that the parts which had been frostbitten but not needing amputation were healed. He'd been going to physical therapy for both his hands and his feet every day. It kept him from hiding in his apartment...which is what he really wanted to do. No matter what anyone said and no matter what he told himself over and over again...he still felt like some kind of freak.

Two toes.

It had been a bad morning. Some of the days since his surgery had been mostly okay. Others were not. Today...was not. All he could think about was his missing parts. He hadn't felt any kind of phantom pains or anything, thankfully. Just the anguish of seeing what had come of his misadventure in Shenandoah. His car was a writeoff after the crash, but his insurance was covering it. It just meant one more thing that had gone wrong.

Eight toes missing...forever.

Tim looked at his hands. They were functioning better and better every day. He was glad of that because he'd been deathly afraid of his hands dying along with his feet. They didn't look like swollen lumps anymore, but they weren't back to full form as yet. The skin was sensitive and his dexterity wasn't yet up to par.

Only two toes.

He sighed and pulled on a pair of socks, hiding his misshapen feet from view. His hands and feet both got cold much more easily now. In fact, he himself got cold much more easily. He kept the temperature in his apartment a bit higher than it had been before. When he slept, he piled a lot of extra blankets on his bed. It was like the hypothermia had sucked away some of his ability to maintain a normal temperature.

One foot with a stump. One foot with two toes.

There was a knock on the door.

Jethro jumped up from his doggy bed and started leaping around excitedly. Tim smiled a little. He had been unable to give Jethro the exercise he needed and so he'd been forced to get the dog walker to come even while he was here. He got up and limped to the door, unable to manage a normal gait yet. Jethro was right at his heels.

He opened the door, already speaking to the dog walker, but looking down at Jethro instead of toward the door. If he pretended he was focused on his dog, then he didn't have to worry about possibly seeing her looking uncomfortable at his debility.

"Hey, Maren. I'm glad you're here early. Jethro is really excited to...get...out..." The feet he could see out of the corner of his eye were _not_ Maren's. Tim furrowed his brow and looked up. "Tony...what are you doing here? Don't you have work?"

"I'm going to be late," Tony said with a shrug. "So is Ziva. She's outside."

"Uh...why?"

"Breakfast? You know...that meal most people eat in the morning?"

"Uh...no...thanks, Tony. Not a good day for it."

"That's why it _is_ a good day for it, Tim."

Tim limped to the counter and sat down on a stool. He shook his head.

"No, Tony."

"Come on! I know you've got the orthotics! They came last week! I'll bet you haven't had much time to break them in. If you're worried about people staring at your feet, just put them on and no one will even notice."

"I'll notice," Tim muttered. "That's more important."

He stared at his feet, at the deformity that was apparent even through the socks.

"And if you come with us, you won't be able to dwell on it so much. It'll be easier to pass the time, and things will be better for you."

"Better, how?"

"Because you won't be letting yourself think about it. In fact, _we _won't be letting you think about it."

"Hard not to, Tony," Tim said. "I can feel it all the time...or _not_ feel it. All the time."

"That'll change, you know."

"Yeah...eventually."

"All you need to do is take the time...and I know you hate hearing that; so don't bite my head off."

Tim smiled a little bit.

"I do hate hearing that...especially right now."

"Bad day, today, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I promise, Tim, we're not going to turn this into any kind of a party. It's just breakfast. Then, we'll bring you back and face Gibbs' wrath for being late."

"Okay," Tim said and sighed. "I need my crutches."

"And your orthotics."

"Yeah."

"Where are they? I'll get them."

"Orthotics are on my dresser. Crutches are in the bedroom."

"Not using them?"

"I'm okay to walk around a little on my own. I just can't put a lot of pressure on my feet yet...and it feels wrong."

Tony nodded and darted into Tim's room and then was back out in a few seconds with Jethro running around him excitedly.

"Here you go, McGee."

Tim pulled on the orthotic shoes and the ankle brace on his right ankle. The footwear wasn't particularly stylish, but it made it much easier to walk. Tim had never considered how much he used his toes when he walked...and it was easier to balance on his left foot than his right.

"New style, huh?" Tim asked, noticing Tony gaze at his feet. The shoes themselves weren't the most amazing, fashion-wise.

"I think it's up and coming," Tony said and handed Tim his crutches. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good. Let's go."

Tim made his slow way to the door, promised Jethro that he'd get out soon and then followed Tony out the door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The café was busy at this time of morning and Tim was worried beyond measure that someone would step on his feet. Tender as they were, any additional injury would be agony.

"Guys," he whispered.

"What is it, Tim?" Ziva asked.

"I don't want anyone stepping on my feet."

Ziva looked at Tony and then at Tim's feet. She stepped on one side of Tim and Tony took up a position on the other. Essentially, they put their own feet out as guards for Tim's feet. In fact, they decided to move Tim to a table and sat him down.

"Okay, what do you want, Tim?" Tony asked. "We'll get it."

"Coffee."

"You've got to have more than that. Dr. Egbert said extra calories will help your skin develop faster...or something."

"Okay...surprise me."

Ziva smiled. "We will."

Tim gave an exhalation of relief as he was safely seated. He watched Tony and Ziva take their place in line. He smiled a little. They had been so good through all of this. If only he could find some kind of equilibrium...physically and mentally. Both were giving him problems.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's started out bad today," Tony said as they waited in line.

"I guessed as much, but he is here. That is important."

"It's only been a few weeks, but I just hoped that he'd find some acceptance of everything."

"I think that he has not been able to adjust when there were two things so close together," Ziva said. "I wish that this had not happened. One was bad. Two is very hard for him. He is walking, though."

"Yeah. Thank goodness. He's getting better. I just think he's not really ready to face it all yet."

"What will we get for him?"

"They're still saying that he should eat more protein, right? Let's get him an omelette."

"Very well."

They ordered and then went back to the table. Tim was sitting rather listlessly. Ziva sat down across from him.

"Tim, is there anything we can do to help you?" she asked.

"Not really," Tim said. "I just...I'm not..._happy_ about how all this has turned out. I'll be walking again eventually, but..." He shrugged a little helplessly. "I'm... This just sucks. This isn't like a broken bone that will heal eventually and I'll be back to normal. My toes aren't going to grow back."

Ziva squeezed Tim's wrist gently.

"I am sorry that you have to deal with this, Tim. I wish there was some way we could fix it."

"There's not. There's no way to fix what I don't have anymore. Prosthetics...they're only cosmetic right now. They don't help with fixing my balance or anything else."

Their number was called and Tony went and got their food. Tim picked at it and ate without much enthusiasm.

"You're going to be okay, McGee," Tony said. "You just have to keep going."

"I don't want to, Tony," Tim admitted. "I'm so tired of all of this. I'm cold all the time. I'm still trying to get my hands back to normal. My feet will _never_ be normal again." He sighed. "It's just so...much."

"You told me not to let you give up. I'm not going to, McGee," Tony said seriously. "You need to...find something to perk you up."

"Any suggestions?" Tim asked with a wan smile.

"Coming back to work?" Tony suggested. "We really miss you there."

"I miss being there. It gets kind of dull sitting around."

"Maybe you could come to work now, not in a couple of weeks," Ziva suggested. "Even just for a few hours."

"Yeah...maybe."

"You've got to be more upbeat than that," Tony said with a fake smile. "Maybe you need to listen to that Download Your Destiny thingy you had before."

Tim smiled a little more genuinely. "I don't think I kept it, Tony. Didn't seem to be any point."

"There probably isn't. Those things are just hokey."

Tim laughed and picked at his omelette again.

"Yeah, they are."

"Tim, I think you should talk to the shrink again," Ziva said. "I know you did and I know they said you did not have to continue doing it if you preferred not to...but this might help you."

"Maybe."

"Just think about it, McGee," Tony said. "You don't have to decide right this minute."

"Okay." He finished off his coffee. "I need to get back so that I can fawn over Jethro before he goes for his run."

"Okay."

They got up, and Tony and Ziva flanked him again to help him out of the café. They dropped him off at his apartment and watched him go inside.

"We should get Abby to work her magic," Tony said.

"Would her magic be enough?"

"She could try."

"We can suggest it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim got back in time to let Maren take Jethro and then he got back on his bed, pulled off his socks and stared at his feet.

Two toes. Only two toes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_One month later..._

Physically, Tim made great progress over the next month. He did start coming to work part time. His hands were much closer to normal although the skin was still tender and overly-sensitive. He could walk without using crutches, but his balance was still a bit off and his gait looked awkward at best. All in all, his physical recovery was right on schedule.

It was his mental recovery that was the problem. Tim struggled with accepting what had happened to him, and it wasn't because he was refusing to try. They all knew that he was trying, but it seemed as though he was only barely hanging on to any kind of happiness he might have. On the surface, it seemed silly. Tim could have died. All he had lost were a few toes. Yes, his ears had lost some tissue as well, and he'd always have scars on his legs where the frostbite had destroyed tissue, but it was only his feet where he'd had to go through amputation. His hands would be fine. He could still walk. He had orthotics that helped protect his feet when he wore shoes.

...and yet...

It was as if what had happened in Shenandoah had destroyed something inside of him, had amputated something more than his feet.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva knocked on the door, hoping Tim would let her in. Sometimes, he wouldn't. He would pretend that he had gone to bed and wouldn't answer the door.

"Tim! It is Ziva! Please, open the door!"

She knocked again and waited. She couldn't hear any movement inside. Of course, she could just barge in, but she wanted to give Tim his privacy when he felt he had lost so much.

There was no response.

Ziva sighed and resigned herself to the fact that Tim was not going to want to talk. She turned to leave.

...and then stopped when she heard the chain on the door.

The door opened and there was Tim...looking about as depressed as usual. He did smile a bit to see her.

"I wasn't going to open the door," he said.

Ziva walked over to him.

"But you did."

"Yeah. I did. Come on in."

Tim stood back and let Ziva walk in. She noticed that his apartment was rather warm, but he had told them once that he felt cold much more often than he had before all this happened.

He walked into his bedroom and sat down with a sigh.

"I know why you're here, Ziva. I appreciate it. I wish I could...do something that would make all this effort worth it. I just..." He sighed again. "I _want_ to accept that this is the way things are and that it's not the end of the world. ...but I can't. It's so stupid that I'm obsessed with my feet like this. I know it is." He reached out and pulled off his socks, revealing his missing toes. The sutures had healed to scars. His two remaining toes were a little misshapen. "It's just...everything about how this happened is a mystery to me. I don't remember any of it. It's like it happened by magic. ...black magic. One minute, I was happy about being back to normal. The next, I'm freezing to death on the side of the mountain."

Tim pulled his knees up and rested his feet on the bed. Then, he reached out and rubbed his fingers over the ends of his feet.

"This is all an unending nightmare that started when I first woke up in Shenandoah, not knowing what was going on, why I was there...or if I was dying. ...and I ended up...like this." He pointed to his feet. Then, he rolled up his sweatpants and revealed his scarred knees. "I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with it." He looked at Ziva. "Tell me...how am I supposed to deal with this, Ziva?"

Ziva had been listening. It was the same problem he'd had from the beginning. Somehow, not knowing what had happened, not remembering the events that had led up to his frostbite made everything worse.

"I do not know what the answer is, Tim," she said.

She wanted to help, but she didn't know what to do. Then, after a few moments, she knelt down in front of Tim and reached out slowly, giving Tim a chance to say no. He watched her but didn't stop her. She moved closer and gently touched Tim's feet. He moved slightly but didn't pull them away. No one had really touched Tim's feet. That was a very personal move, but Ziva felt that this was the right time, the right moment. She slowly moved her hands down from his ankles to the end, to the stubs. When she reached the place where his toes had been removed, he flinched a little bit, but still, he didn't pull his feet away. Ziva let her fingers gently play over the ends of his feet. Then, she smiled gently and kissed his feet.

Tim blushed a little and his two remaining toes curled a little bit.

"You don't have to do that," he said softly.

Ziva smiled.

"I know, but, Tim, you are still you. That has not changed. That will _not_ change, even with your feet the way they are. I know that you feel as though you have lost a lot more than just your toes, that you have lost some of yourself...but you have not lost anything except for a day or two of your life, and based on what came of it, perhaps it is best forgotten. You did nothing to deserve what happened. You have not done anything wrong. If you have recovery ahead of you, it is not a punishment." She lifted his foot a little bit. "This does not change who you are."

Tim swallowed hard and took a quick breath.

"Feels like it has."

"I know, and I cannot change that for you. I wish that I could...but can you see that there is the potential to feel like yourself again?"

"Not right now, I can't," Tim said. "I know it's not logical. I know it shouldn't make such a difference...but it does. It really does and I just don't... I'm sorry."

Ziva leaned up and put her hands on Tim's shoulders.

"No, Tim. You do not have to apologize! I am not saying this to make you feel worse. I was trying to help you feel _better_."

"I know." Tim shook his head. "I appreciate it."

"What will it take, Tim?" Ziva asked. "What is it that you need?"

Tim stared at his feet again.

"I need to...wake up in the morning and not think about the fact that I can feel where there should be something and there isn't. I need it not to be what it is." He rubbed at his face.

"That will take time."

"I know. I just don't know if I can...deal with the time. I don't know how to adjust to..." He rubbed his hands over his feet. "...to this."

Ziva got off the floor and sat down beside Tim. She moved his feet gently to the floor and then put her arm around him.

"Perhaps the first step is to stop staring at your feet. Perhaps it is that simple. Instead of letting that become all you see, you can stop yourself from focusing on it...at least with your eyes."

Tim smiled.

"You think it could be that easy?"

"I do not know, but it is worth a try, yes?"

"Maybe."

"We are here to help you as much as we can, but there are some things that you must do yourself. We cannot do them for you, although we would like to."

"I know."

Ziva smiled. Tim seemed a little less despondent than he had before. Whether or not that would be a permanent change, she didn't know, but it was something.

"So...what will we do to distract you right now?" she asked.

Tim smiled a little.

"Can't do much."

"You have a television."

"I do."

"Then, let us see what is on...if you agree."

"Sure."

Tim scooted himself back and then pulled his socks back on. Ziva scooted over beside him and put her arm around him. She was happy when he relaxed enough to lean against her. They ended up watching a marathon of an old sitcom called _Hogan's Heroes_.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next couple of weeks, Tim seemed to improve a bit. There were numerous moments when he seemed to be determinedly _not_ looking at his feet, and to Ziva's surprise, it actually seemed to be helping slightly. It didn't make things perfect by any means, but it did help.

The other thing that helped was that his gait was gradually becoming more regular. His body was slowly adjusting to the change in his feet. Toes are important for balance, particularly when leading off in walking, and in order to adjust to the lack, Tim had to learn to lead off with his left foot since it had two toes left (something made easier by the fact that he was left-handed), and he had to adapt to the fact that there was more strain on his right ankle _because_ of the lack of toes. He had been fortunate in not having to lose any of his metatarsals, but the loss of the phalanges did put more strain on other parts of his foot and his ankle.

The important thing, though, was that as he learned to walk more easily, he didn't _have_ to think about his feet so much. He didn't have to pay as much attention. As his feet toughened up, he didn't have to worry so much about whether or not someone would step on his feet and cause him pain. The shoes he wore would never win any beauty contests, but they also helped with his stability.

He wasn't really happy yet, but he was becoming more...accepting of his situation.

That lead to another development. Up to this point, Tim had been working at his desk. He had been working half days only. He had slowly been preparing himself for full desk duty. There was a still a question, however.

Would he still be a field agent? While it didn't always happen, a field agent had to be ready to run in pursuit of a suspect. If he had to hang back, if he couldn't keep up, if he couldn't actually run in pursuit, he would be a hindrance, a liability in the field. So...what would happen in that respect?

No one wanted to bring it up because they were afraid that it would send Tim back down into the doldrums, but it was on everyone's minds...because they were worried that, while Tim would regain much of his mobility, he wouldn't regain enough.

What would that do to him?

It might actually have been a comfort to them to know that Tim himself had started thinking about it and, for the first time, had been thinking about his possible future. He didn't know it, but it contributed to his improvement because he wasn't thinking only about the present or the recent past that had created his present. He was thinking about a future.

But what kind of future would it be?


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_One month later..._

Tim was sitting, waiting for Damien, his physical therapist. He was staring at his feet. Physical therapy was the one place where he now allowed himself to focus on them. The red scars were fading to white. The skin was mostly fine. He hadn't had any trouble with lesions yet, although he'd been warned to expect them to flare up occasionally as he started exerting himself more.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"You ready?"

"Can I ask you something before we get started today?"

"Of course."

Tim took a breath. He was afraid of the answer to this question, but he decided that he needed to hear it, good or bad.

"Based on what I've done so far...will I be able to run and do the same things I was doing before?"

"You mean as a federal agent?"

"Yeah."

Damien sat down.

"Honestly, I don't know."

"Why don't you know? It's been months. Shouldn't you have some idea of how much further I'll get?"

"It's always hard to judge just how much heavy physical activity any person is going to get. Some are running. Some are barely walking."

"I'm not talking about _any_ person," Tim said. "I'm talking about me."

"I know that. Part of the problem is that it's only in the last couple of weeks that we've been able to start pushing a little harder. The fact that your amputation was due to frostbite means that there are a lot of other factors involved. We had to wait for the skin to grow back to the extent it would. We had to wait for the skin to toughen up. Your sprained right ankle...Tim, I'm not saying that you won't, but I can't give you a definite declaration."

"Okay...so...do you _think_ that I will?"

Damien smiled. "Tim, do you _want_ to?"

"Of course!"

"No. I want you to think about this. You've had a lot of problems dealing with your amputation. If you want to fully regain your mobility, it's going to take time, effort, and it's likely that there will be pain involved. Adjusting your gait to walking is relatively easy. Running is harder. There's a bigger chance that you'll have issues with lesions, possible failure of the tissue. It's something you have to be willing to deal with. Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Tim stared at his feet. It was true. He _had_ been struggling for a long time with it. Was he ready for the difficulty to increase when he was only barely tolerating his new situation?

Damien didn't rush him. It had been a genuine question and he wanted a real answer. Tim saw now that he needed to _give_ a real answer.

_Is that what I really want or is it just me still wanting to go back in time?_

No. Tim wanted to reclaim his life and part of that required getting back to his job.

"This is what I want," he said finally. "...but I can't guarantee that I won't get discouraged."

Damien smiled.

"That's not required, Tim. What _is_ required is real effort. As long as you do that, believe it or not, you'll make it as far as is possible. But if you're not really trying because you're not believing it's possible, then, you won't."

Tim nodded.

"Okay. I want to try."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't tell his friends about his new determination to be physically prepared for a return to work. They knew he was still going to physical therapy, but they didn't know he was starting to run. He was afraid to tell them...in case things didn't pan out. A bad attitude, probably, but he needed to have some time when he was just dealing with it, not having everyone else trying to help him deal with it.

Damien had been right. It was hard. It was painful sometimes, and he wanted to give up sometimes. It was so hard learning how to balance and run normally on his toeless feet. He lost his balance more than once, but he kept trying. When the ground was uneven, it was a lot harder, more painful, and he tripped more. When he had to change direction suddenly, he was more liable to lose his balance. ...but still, he kept trying, determined to prove that he hadn't lied.

What he didn't notice was that there was an attitude shift that happened as he became focused on recovering, rather than on lamenting the event that had put him in that situation. He was less despondent. He was more confident. He just seemed...surer about himself. No one knew exactly why. They just saw it. Tim himself didn't realize that he was doing exactly what everyone had hoped he would. He just knew that he couldn't let his life get away from him if it was there to be grasped.

...and finally, Gibbs became determined to figure out what had caused the change.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat on his bed and looked at the shoes he'd just pulled on. He was going to go running for the first time away from physical therapy. Just a little ways, not a hard run. He was nervous. He was terrified that he'd completely fall apart without Damien's support, but Damien wouldn't always be there. It was something he had to do. He couldn't put this off for another week. He had promised Damien that he'd do it. Jethro was excited to go out with him...which also made Tim worried. He hoped his dog wouldn't pull him right over.

He took a deep breath and stood up, taking stock of how sturdy he felt. The orthotics were something he still took conscious note of. He could feel them, but thankfully, they weren't irritating or painful. Standing here, he felt almost normal. Not quite, but almost. He had no problem with maintaining his balance, no problem with pain in his feet. He was just standing.

"Jethro, are you ready?"

Jethro was more than ready if his antics were any indication. This would be the first time Tim had taken Jethro out for anything more than a quick trip to do his business.

"Remember, Jethro..._I'm_ setting the pace, not you. No jerking the leash and running off after cats or birds or anything else, got it?"

Jethro barked at him.

"That had better be the German shepherd equivalent of 'yes, master'," Tim said with what he hoped was a severe look.

Jethro was uncowed, but he didn't jump up on Tim as he might have done in other circumstances. Maybe he _did_ realize there was a need for restraint. Maybe.

With one more deep breath, Tim clipped on Jethro's leash and walked out of his apartment. He carefully navigated down the stairs and out to the sidewalk.

"Okay, Jethro. Let's go. Slowly!"

Tim started to jog. To his distinct relief, Jethro kept pace rather than trying to drag him along. They took a slow circuit around a couple of blocks. Tim felt almost winded, mostly because he hadn't been able to run this much in ages. He didn't feel quite stable, but he didn't feel like he was going to fall over. The orthotics were keeping the rubbing down on the ends of his feet. The ankle brace on his right leg was allowing him to maintain his stability.

As he rounded the corner and headed back to his apartment, Jethro suddenly started barking at someone...and pulling at the leash. Tim was too tired to keep his balance and he let go of the leash, but that wasn't enough to keep him on his feet and he tripped and tumbled to the sidewalk. He was smart enough _not_ to try and catch himself with his hands, but he couldn't stop from landing on his knees...which were still a bit sensitive after the tissue loss. He rolled over onto his back after he landed and just breathed for a few seconds, trying not to cry.

"McGee, you all right?" a voice called.

Jethro came back and nuzzled Tim, whining a little.

"Thanks a lot, Jethro..." Tim said. "You're supposed to take it slow...remember? What was that?" He started thinking about getting up.

"Tim."

Tim squinted up and then groaned inwardly.

"Hi, Boss," he said with a pained smile. "I guess you're the reason Jethro took off like a crazed animal."

Gibbs leaned over him.

"You all right?"

"I will be...once the throbbing stops," Tim said. "My knees aren't what they used to be."

Gibbs smiled and held out a hand.

"You ready to get up?"

"Yeah."

Tim put out his hand and was belatedly relieved when Gibbs grabbed him by the wrists. His hands were much better off than the rest of his damaged parts, but they still were a bit sensitive. When he regained his feet, he staggered and Gibbs put a supportive arm around his waist.

"Sorry, Boss. Off balance," he muttered.

Off balance and in pain. His legs _really_ hurt right now.

"Stupid dog," he muttered in a low voice.

Jethro whined and dropped his head...and Tim relented...of course. He couldn't stay mad at his dog. He bent over and scratched Jethro's head and then let Gibbs start them back to his apartment. He could feel some blood running down his legs from his close encounter with the sidewalk.

"So...how long have you been running, Tim?"

"Out here or at physical therapy?"

"Either."

"Out here...just today. In therapy...a couple of weeks. I've been working toward it."

Tim stumbled. It was like his balance had been completely thrown off by the fall. ...or maybe it was just that his knees were still throbbing from the pain.

"You didn't tell anyone?"

"No, I didn't."

Gibbs didn't respond. He just helped Tim back to his apartment. Up the stairs and then he sat him down and helped patch him up. Tim let him.

"Thanks, Boss," he said softly.

"Why didn't you tell us what you were doing?"

"In case I failed," Tim said. "In case I couldn't do it. I didn't want anyone to know that I'd tried and failed."

"You think we would have been disappointed?"

"No. I didn't want..." Tim looked at his shoes, at the ankle brace. "I didn't want pity."

"Tim...what are you worried about?"

"I don't want to be different from how I was before," Tim said. "My body is different. I don't want _me_ to be different. I want to be who I was...but I'm afraid that I won't be...and if I'm not, I don't want the others to see me trying and failing. So I wanted to try first...and then..."

"And then, what? How would you tell us that you'd been hiding your attempts?"

Tim looked up.

"I was hoping that you'd all just be happy for me."

"We are, Tim. You've been a lot better the last few weeks. I should have known that it was because you were finally focusing on something other than being depressed."

Tim smiled a little.

"...but did you really think that it would be better to do this on your own without letting us be there?"

"It's selfish, I guess, but I really wanted to see for myself before I told anyone."

"And?"

"And what?"

"How is it going?"

"How is _what_ going?"

Gibbs smiled. "Your running."

"Oh...it's going...pretty well. I need the ankle brace on my right foot. No toes...plus the sprain didn't heal as well as it could have. ...but I can run. I'm going to look into a silicone prosthesis on my left foot. It's expensive and insurance won't cover it all, but I think it'll be worth it. Damien thinks it'll give me more stability. It takes a long time because they have to get it fitted and shaped right...but it could be an improvement."

"So...last word on this?"

"I think I'll be able to...keep my job," Tim said and smiled a little. "I hope."

"That's great."

"Boss..."

"You're still afraid, aren't you."

"Yeah. Every step of the way, I'm afraid that something else is going to go wrong. Damien has been frustrated about it, I know. I just can't stop being afraid of it. ...and I'm a little worried that it might hold me back...at work, later. Boss, I could have died when I had a tumor. I could have died when I was lost in Shenandoah...somehow, not even knowing what happened. What's going to happen next?"

"Have you been back to Shenandoah since the winter?"

Tim shook his head.

"It scares me."

"Then, let's go."

"What?"

"Let's go. To Shenandoah."

"Now?"

"You doing anything else?"

Tim looked at his bandaged knees and then down to his feet. He lifted his hands up and stared at them. All these things that had happened in a place he had formerly really wanted to see.

"I don't want to go back there."

"That's why you need to."

"Isn't running good enough?" Tim asked, feeling more than a little fear.

"Not if you're worried about your mind holding you back."

Jethro walked over and put his front paws on Tim's legs. He stared soulfully at Tim and Tim couldn't help but smile at the attention.

"What is it, Jethro? It's okay. I'm fine."

Jethro licked his face and Tim laughed.

"Okay."

"Tim?" Gibbs asked.

Tim looked up again.

"Okay, Boss. I'll go with you. Just let me change."

"Okay."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Tim took a deep breath as they drove through the gates and into the park.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this, Boss."

Gibbs smiled. He could tell that Tim was anxious about confronting the place that had nearly killed him...even if it _was_ a beautiful late spring day, not in the middle of the winter.

"You'll be fine."

"Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

"Didn't think you would be."

"Good."

Tim looked out the window and was silent for a few minutes as Gibbs drove up Skyline Drive and further into the park.

"I was so excited," he whispered. "I just wanted to see it."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"It nearly killed me."

"No. _Dallas _nearly killed you."

"I don't see that it makes much difference, Boss."

"It does."

"Why?"

"Because you're thinking about a person who can't hurt _anyone_ again, versus a choice you made that you could possibly make again."

"You been taking lessons from Ducky, Boss?" Tim asked with a bit of a smile.

"Maybe one or two. He knows what he's talking about."

Tim laughed. "I guess he does."

Gibbs smiled in response and then focused on the road until they got to the place that Tony and Ziva had found Dallas' stolen car. He pulled over and turned off the car.

"This is it?" Tim asked.

"Yep. Near as we can tell."

Tim got out and limped to the overlook. He stared out at the view for a while. It was lovely and green right now.

"This is where he attacked me, then?"

"Yeah. We think so."

"Doesn't ring any bells," Tim said softly. "I'm sure you're right, but I don't remember."

"I didn't think you would, not anymore."

"Then, why bring me out here?"

"So that you can see it."

Tim took a deep breath.

"When I woke up, I had no idea where to go. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know what I was doing. For a moment...I didn't even know _who_ I was. I went up because it seemed closer than the bottom did."

"Good thing you did. You probably wouldn't have made it anywhere helpful."

"Probably not."

"What about when you got up to the top?" Gibbs asked.

"I was so tired. It hurt. I was shaking. I was cold. I didn't even want to bother."

"But you did."

"I didn't want to die," Tim said. "...and I knew that I could keep trying, even if I didn't want to."

Gibbs smiled.

"Then, what?"

Tim didn't even seem to realize that Gibbs was asking him any questions. He just stared off into the valley.

"I started to walk...limp. I didn't know where I was I going. I just...had to walk...somewhere."

"And it started snowing?"

"It was snowing...and windy...and really cold. I was so cold...and so confused. I just...at first, I was more bothered by the fact that I didn't know _why_ I was here. I didn't know what had happened."

Tim fell silent again. After a few seconds, he started walking down the road...in the direction of the park entrance. Gibbs followed. Was this the first time that Tim had allowed himself to go through everything that had happened before? If so, then it was good that he was doing it.

"It was too hard to walk on the road because...my ankle hurt so bad. I needed to be able to lean on the trees. I would stagger from tree to tree. I was so cold."

Tim stopped and looked off into the trees.

"I fell again. I couldn't get up. It was impossible. I was so cold. I was so tired. I curled into a ball and just lay there, content that I had tried my best and it wasn't enough. I gave up."

"But you didn't. You were in the road."

"I gave up...until I heard the car. I couldn't let myself lay there when there was a car in the road. I couldn't even feel my feet. I was so addled...I wasn't sure if they were there even. I just started crawling toward the road. I felt like I had to do something. That way...if I died, it wouldn't be because I hadn't tried."

"That's what you were thinking?"

"More or less."

Tim walked across the road and looked through the trees to the valley again.

"Seeing you...I wasn't sure if it was real."

"It was."

"Yeah."

Tim started walking back toward the car. Gibbs followed along behind him. Tim didn't speak again until they'd reached the overlook.

"I don't remember how I got here," Tim said. "Are you sure that doesn't matter?"

"You can't change what happened back then. It's a couple of days. How could remembering it change anything?"

Tim sat down on the rock wall.

"I don't know. That's the problem. I can't get those days back."

"No, you can't. So stop worrying about it and think about what's coming, not about what's already happened."

"I just wish I could...remember how I felt."

"But you can't."

Tim smiled. "Yeah."

Gibbs sat down beside him.

"You're getting better, Tim. Why ruin that by dwelling on something that isn't going to change no matter what?"

"Because I'm an idiot, Boss," Tim said with a weak smile.

_Thwack!_

"No. Don't think like that. Struggling to get back your life isn't the mark of an idiot. Are we clear?"

"Clear, Boss," Tim said.

"Good. You ready to show off your skills?"

"Not with scabby knees," Tim said.

Gibbs laughed and got up. Tim got up, too, a little wobbly, yes, but on his own two feet. They walked back to the car and headed home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

"Okay, Probie," Tony said. "Enough hiding your secret talents!"

Tim smiled.

"I told you, Tony, I still have weeks before I'll get my prosthetic."

"You're running right now, aren't you?" Abby asked.

"Well...yeah...but..."

"And you have not _told_ us about it," Ziva said.

"No, I didn't, but..."

"And we're all here dressed for running," Jimmy said with a grin. "You can't get out of it now."

"That was _your_ idea," Tim said. "It wasn't mine!"

"No hiding anymore, Probie," Tony said again. "We're going running...and _you're_ coming with us."

Tim looked at the people standing in his apartment. He still had his pajamas on...and his bare feet showed off his missing digits. He still slept with blankets piled on his bed, but he had just taken off his socks when they had broken into his apartment.

"Can I at least put on some running clothes?" he asked.

"Of course," Ziva said. "Do not take too long."

"Okay...uh...stay out here, please."

He hurried back into his bedroom...or rather he hurried as quickly as he could. Thankfully, Jethro had stayed out in the main room to take full advantage of all the attention he could get.

Tim changed and then pulled on his socks, his ankle brace, his special running shoes and then got up and walked out into the main room.

"Okay, guys. I'm ready. See?"

"Good. Come on!" Abby said.

She didn't grab his hands but she gestured eloquently. They all traipsed out of his apartment and down to the sidewalk.

"I can't run very fast, you know, guys. Don't think I'm doing sprinting or running marathons. In fact, running is probably the wrong word. Jogging is better."

"Running, jogging, trotting, flouncing...who cares?" Tony said.

"Flouncing?" Tim repeated.

"Yes. Flouncing. Now, no more putting it off. Let's go."

"Okay...but it won't be very exciting."

The others were completely unimpressed with that statement and gestured. So Tim shrugged and started off. He was relieved that they let him set the pace. Abby had Jethro's leash which was good because Jethro was _way_ too excited for Tim to feel safe about being in control.

After a couple of blocks, they headed back. Tim was tired, but he'd remained upright the whole time. Abby hugged him tightly when they finished.

"I'm so glad you're running again, Tim!"

"It's not much yet, Abbs," Tim said.

"Doesn't matter! It's more than you were doing before and you seem so much happier, Tim!"

"Thanks, Abbs."

Tony came up and thumped him on the back...unbalancing Tim a little, but he caught himself.

"So...the next step is for you to run a 5K."

"I've never participated in races, Tony," Tim said.

"But you will now."

"If you do, I will join you, McGee," Ziva said with a smile.

Tim was tired, a little embarrassed by all the attention...and yet...he didn't really mind. He felt a sense of contentment that had been missing in all the weeks since he had realized just what he was going to lose.

Sure, he wished he still had his toes. No, what had happened wasn't a _good_ thing. ...but at the same time, he was starting to see what everyone had been telling him all along. It didn't matter how many toes he had. What mattered was that he was alive and he was getting his life back.

And he wasn't alone in any of it...unless he made it that way. The loneliness he'd felt wandering in a daze through Shenandoah wasn't there anymore. He smiled at his friends and felt real gratitude that he'd managed to hang on. Just think of all that he could have lost...


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Six months later..._

It had snowed in Shenandoah, covering all the trees and mountains in a thick white coating. The storm had blown through, dropped a lot of snow and then cleared out, leaving the crisp winter skies behind with the chilly winter sun shining down.

Tim looked out the window, looked down at his bare feet and smiled. Gibbs and Ducky had, by turns, been asking him when he was going to go back to Shenandoah. Abby had allowed that Tim needed to go back, even if she said she would worry incessantly until he had gone and returned to DC.

He shivered a little. He still had a sensitivity to cold...both overall and in his hands and feet. It was something that might never go away. He'd got his prosthetic and it had gone well; so he had decided to get one for his right foot as well. His insurance wouldn't cover it; so it would take time to save up for it, but it would be worth it. The structure of it was such that he didn't _quite_ have the kind of stability he might want, but it did help so long as he wore his ankle brace. That looked to be a permanent necessity if he was going to be active in any way, but after close to a year of wear, Tim was plenty used to it. It was a habit now. He put it on every morning whether he was going to work or just going for a run with Jethro. He still wasn't the fastest runner on the block, and Gibbs didn't have him operating at quite the same level he had before, but he was running. He was doing his job and he was glad of it.

He had continued seeing a therapist off and on, and had joined an amputee support group after feeling embarrassed because his amputations were so minor compared to the others. They had made him feel welcome, although it had taken a while for him to relax with people who had lost both legs or arms or one or the other. He was only missing a few toes. The experience was good because it helped him gain perspective on what he had and what he didn't.

Now, he was preparing to see Shenandoah in the winter. He pulled on his thick winter socks, his winter boots, and then grabbed his winter coat and his gloves and a hat. Did he need all that for what would just be a drive? He hoped not, but he was going to be prepared this time.

"Okay, Jethro. I'll be back. Don't let them forget about me," Tim said.

Then, he walked out of his apartment...on his way to see Shenandoah covered in snow.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was an overlook halfway through the park that looked nice. Tim pulled off and got out of the car. The sun was glinting off the snow, and the sparkle dazzled his eyes for a moment until he got used to it.

He looked out over the Shenandoah Valley and felt a stirring inside. He smiled as he looked at the beautiful sight. It was gorgeous with the sun positioned just right to produce both shadow and light. What more did he need?

Nothing. Tim gave a happy sigh as he stared.

This was why he had wanted to come. This was what he had wanted to see.

And it was worth it. Worth the drive. Worth the time.

Worth the wait.

He lifted his camera and took a few pictures...as he'd been doing all along the way.

Now, it was time to go home.

With one last, lingering look, Tim walked back to his car. He got in and continued on his way.

Home.

FINIS!


End file.
